Twenty Questions
by JWood201
Summary: A series exploring what happened in those twenty years that no one got to see. Part 17 of 20 is up.
1. Survived By

**Twenty Questions, Part 1: Survived By**

Insert Standard Disclaimer … Here  
Setting: This series begins halfway through the finale. Ben and Laila are about two years old.  
About the Series: This is the first in a series of oneshots exploring the twenty years that we didn't get to see and all of the subsequent questions that are brought up. We know that Will and Grace ended up with Vince and Leo, had their children, and didn't talk until they meet up while moving Ben and Laila into college. But Jack and Karen had so much unfinished business – how did they end up living together? What happened to _The Badge_? Where'd Stan go? Did Karen ever see or hear from the stepkiddies again? I find it almost impossible to believe that she would be so well-adjusted if she didn't have some sort of closure with them. This series of twenty oneshots will attempt to answer some of these questions.

* * *

**November, 2008**

Despite the thin dusting of vivid white snow that blanketed the ground, the sun shown down brilliantly on the flat stretch of land on the Upper West Side. A bitter breeze blew off of the Hudson River, cutting sharply through the layers of clothing, skin, and tissue, finally settling heavily in the bone. Karen clutched her long fur coat tighter around her body, eyes vacant behind her large dark sunglasses. She shifted uncomfortably on the cold metal folding chair and leaned closer to the man beside her, crossing her legs and distantly wishing that she had decided against wearing a dress that day. Karen slipped her arm under Jack's and took his leather-gloved hand in her own.

Behind them, additional rows of folding chairs stood uninhabited. A well-dressed businessman stood behind the last row, briefcase in hand and waiting patiently. Karen glanced up and met the gaze of the handsome African American man sitting across from them alone in his own empty batch of chairs. He seemed stunned and bewildered, but occasionally took the effort to look up and shoot a contemptuous look in Jack's direction.

Karen barely noticed when the fifth and final person there finally stopped speaking and apparently asked her to do something. Karen let Jack pull her preoccupied body to its feet and guide it forward a few steps, his hand laid gently across her back. The fifth man smiled warmly at her, a large book tucked under one arm, and handed Karen a bright red rose. She nodded blankly at him and turned away.

Karen looked down and smiled wryly. Little Liberace was still the most extravagant person she had ever known. She gently placed the vibrant rose down on top of the elaborate white gilded coffin before kissing her fingertips and pressing them to the shiny surface. Jack set his flower down as well and shook hands with the priest, thanking him. He turned then and chased after Karen, who had begun wandering off in a random direction, weaving through the gravestones, heels sinking into the wet ground.

Benji finally stood and approached the coffin. He laid his rose down as well, the sharp wind already stripping one of the other two of its petals. He bent over and picked up Karen's rose, which had been blown onto the ground, and set it gently back onto the lid. He stared down at it for a while before heaving a strong sigh and strolling off in the opposite direction through the deserted cemetery. As he departed, two shivering gravediggers, which had been impatiently waiting for the three lone mourners to depart, approached and got to work.

Jack caught up to Karen and fell into step beside her, hands shoved deeply and nervously into his pockets. Karen inhaled deeply and let it all out in one long breath, tilting her head back and staring up at the sky. Jack was about to open his mouth to say something when he noticed the businessman out of the corner of his eye.

Trying to be as tactful as possible, the man removed his sunglasses and held a fat rectangular envelope out to Jack. "Mr. McFarland. You'll have to come into the office to sign a few papers. Call me whenever you're ready." Jack took the envelope, slipping it into the inside pocket of his wool dress coat as the man turned to Karen. "Ma'am," he greeted with a small nod, which she ignored. He replaced his sunglasses and retreated back through the blinding snowy field.

Jack and Karen continued on their way hand-in-hand. Karen finally glanced up at him, expressionless countenance perfectly set in place from years of practice. Her eyes lingered on his own passive face only for a moment before concentrating again on the path before her.

"He was my friend, Jackie." Karen's voice broke ever-so-slightly, giving away what her sunglasses were hiding.

Jack squeezed her hand. "I know, Kar."


	2. Shoulder My Baggage

**Twenty Questions, Part 2: Shoulder My Baggage**

**February, 2009**

Karen leaned idly against the wooden doorframe, swirling the olive-skewered toothpick in tight circles through her martini. She tilted her head back and shook the toothpick over her open mouth, savoring each drop of the precious liquid as it dripped onto her tongue. The front door to the penthouse slammed open and she saw Jack appear laden with luggage and kicking a cardboard box out in front of him. He struggled to the stairs, not seeing Karen just outside the doorway, and abruptly tripped, landing flat on his face. Karen stifled a giggle as he hoisted himself to his feet and clamored up the stairs and out of sight.

Karen flinched as she heard another crash from the upper floor and an exclamation of "Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt!" This time she let out a rich laugh, but hastily cut herself off when Jack reappeared at the top of the stairs, rubbing the side of his head and a pout firmly in place. He crossed the foyer and exited again without noticing Karen's presence, petulantly kicking the rogue cardboard box on his way.

Jack appeared again with a massive hat box and pulling a rolling suitcase behind him. This time he spotted Karen – perched on an elaborate Louis XIV chair in the foyer, sipping from her martini. He shot her a look as he passed, but she merely waved him on his way up the stairs.

On his next trip, Jack saw that Rosario had joined Karen in the foyer. The maid was propped up next to her employer, a bowl of Pop Secret cradled in her lap. Jack gawked at them as he struggled with another armful of bags. "Karen! I –."

"Fetch, poodle." Karen tossed a popcorn kernel into his open mouth before he could continue his objection. Jack settled on glaring at them instead and trudged once again up the stairs.

When Jack returned down the stairs for what seemed like the hundredth time, Rosario had disappeared, but Karen was still there and still very much amused by his trek. "How's it goin'?" she asked with a smile.

"That's the last of it," Jack announced, collapsing to the floor at her feet, sprawled out on his back across the black and white tile.

Karen slid onto the floor next to him, setting her martini aside. She leaned her elbows on her knees, chin in her palm, and studied him – eyes closed and breathing heavily to catch his breath. Karen finally poked Jack in the side. "Thanks for helping me move back in."

He opened his eyes and smiled at her as if she was crazy to think otherwise. "Of course, Kar. I couldn't let you stay in that crappy apartment."

Karen lifted her head and looked around at what she could see of the manse from her spot on the floor – everything was exactly how she had left it. She sighed. "I can't believe you bought this place."

"I couldn't let them take it away from you."

"You take good care'a me, Jackie."

"You've always taken good care of me. Besides, it's your home."

"You bought it. It's your home too."

Jack was silent for a moment, propping himself up on his elbows. He watched Karen curiously as she absentmindedly traced the argyle pattern on his sweater with her finger. "Are you asking me to move in?"

Karen shrugged. "You practically live here anyway, so you'll save on subway fare. And this time I'll let you stay in the good part of the house with me." She poked him in the side again, harder this time, and he giggled and writhed away from her.

"Are you sure?" Jack sat up on his knees, brow furrowed as he thought this over.

"Sure, honey. You can have your own wing, keep your own hours. I won't bother you, I promise. We don't want to turn into Will and Grace."

Jack's eyes widened at the thought and he shook his head vehemently. "No, we do not."

"Besides, I could use the company. It's just me and Rosie here now. It'll be fun! Come on, honey!" Karen grabbed his hand and bounced up and down a few times like a child on the brink of throwing a tantrum. "Please! Come on, Jackie!"

He pondered this for another moment before his cautious expression broke into a huge grin. "I'm movin' in, girls!" Jack yelled towards her chest. Karen laughed and clapped her hands, bouncing more violently in celebration before launching herself at him and pulling Jack into a tight hug, toppling them both over onto the foyer floor.


	3. Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Loaded

**Twenty Questions, Part 3: Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Loaded**

**January, 2010**

The young woman ran at breakneck speed down the long dingy corridor of the abandoned slaughterhouse, glancing frantically over her shoulder. She skidded to a halt and slipped through the heavy metal door to her left. She heard it click behind her and looked around warily – a meat freezer. She braced her arms over her chest and wandered cautiously through the rock-hard sides of beef still swinging from huge shiny hooks. Her head whipped around at the sound of the insulating suction around the freezer door breaking as the door opened behind her. She picked up speed as the unmistakable sound of a chainsaw revved up behind her. Dodging slabs of meat, she lured her pursuer on a twisted path through the freezer until she returned to the door, hauling it open and tearing out into the hallway again. The psychopath activated the sprinkler system, drenching the girl to the bone, tank top sticking to her exhausted body.

The man in the small movie audience let out a scoff of disgust and kicked his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. "This would've been _SO_ much better with La Bacon. If I wanted gratuitous boobage I'd shower with you more often." A soft glow flickered across the dark room, flashing rapidly as the frames sped by on the massive movie screen. "Kar?"

But the woman beside him was too wrapped up in the movie to pay any attention to him. Karen had practically attached herself to Jack, feet tucked up beneath her on the overstuffed couch. She gripped a tumbler of copper liquid in one hand, robotically pulling popcorn out of the bowl on Jack's lap with the other. Her eyes widened as she watched Jessica Biel approach a door, ominous music swelling through the speakers mounted around the room.

"Don't go in there," Karen warned her. "Don't do it."

A door slowly squeaked open, sending a sliver of light out across the dark room. Two pairs of little hands followed by little knees crawled across the carpet, unsuccessfully stifling giggles. The figures stood up behind their unsuspecting targets, grinning mischievously to each other.

Jessica's hand reached for the doorknob and Karen grabbed a handful of Jack's sweater. "He's in there, you moron!" Karen shrieked at the screen just as she flung the door open revealing … nothing.

Karen lifted her head from where she had buried it in Jack's side and let out the breath she was holding as he began laughing. She elbowed him in the ribs. "It's not funny." Nonetheless, Karen inched closer to Jack and settled deeper into the cushions. "I'm not scared," she pouted.

"Boo!"

Karen screamed at the top of her lungs and shot off the sofa. She landed on the floor, back up against the coffee table, staring frantically at the couch. Her drink spiraled out of her hand and smashed against the wall. Jack whipped around as well, the popcorn bowl overturning, its contents strewn across the floor.

Two children, both about three and a half years old, grinned maniacally back at them. They linked their arms over the back of the couch and hung there, laughing uncontrollably. The little boy couldn't hold himself up any longer and fell onto the floor, rolling in hysterical circles on the carpet.

"Benjamin George Truman-D'Angelo!" Jack yelled, peering over the back of the couch at the boy. "You scared your Aunt Karen right out of her Manolos!"

"You scared too, Uncle Jack!" the little girl shouted, reaching out and poking him on the nose.

Jack considered this for a moment. "Was not, Laila," he finally retorted, pulling the pigtailed girl into his lap.

Sufficiently flustered, Karen gripped the coffee table and shakily hoisted herself to her feet. Jack, Ben, and Laila all watched her, wide-eyed, as she stumbled over to the wall, pushing her disheveled hair back into place. She angrily punched a button on the intercom. "Rosario!"

"What?" The maid's irritated voice floated into the room a few seconds later.

"You were supposed to be watching these rugrats! Now you listen to me, enchilada –!"

"Save it, lady!"

"Let's roll, youngins," Jack began as Karen and Rosario yelled over each other. "You're not ready for this yet." Jack slung Laila over one of his shoulders and hooked Ben under his other arm and left the room.

"You're the babysitter," Rosario shot back.

"They only dumped them with us because they were desperate. And assumed you'd be taking care of them. With the way things have been going, these kids are never gonna see each other again anyway, so just keep 'em entertained for one day!"

"Will and Grace don't know that the other kid's here, do they?"

"Just get in here and clean this mess up!" Karen released the intercom button and stalked out of the room.

She found Jack sitting on the sofa in the library, both children in his lap and holding a script out in front of him. When Karen entered, he abruptly quieted and attempted to hide the pages under the couch cushions. "Hey, Kar," he greeted innocently.

"Jackie." She regarded him suspiciously. "What are you reading them?"

He shook his head quickly and grinned. "Nothin'."

"Tonga!" Ben suddenly piped up and Jack's smile slowly slipped off his face.

"Houseboat!" Laila chimed in, pulling the script from between the cushions and trying to push it back into Jack's hands.

Karen intercepted and gawked at the cover page. "_Love Among the Coconuts_. I thought you got rid of this!" She rolled up the pages and swatted Jack on the back of the head with them.

"I couldn't, Kar! It's my masterpiece. Besides, they like it. Right, guys?" Ben and Laila nodded eagerly.

"Lup-lup!" Ben recited and Jack grinned proudly.

"Jack." He looked up at the sternness in Karen's voice and his eyes widened.

"Uh oh. Aunt Karen's mad. Run!" Jack and the kids immediately shot off the couch and bolted towards the kitchen. Laila tripped halfway to the door and Jack scooped her off the floor without stopping, planting her on his shoulders. "Hurry! Before she sends her flying monkeys!" Karen's arms dropped to her sides exasperatedly. Once they disappeared behind the kitchen door, she could hear Jack shushing the kids loudly. "I don't think we've been followed, troops. It's now safe to execute the cereal mission. General Mills is in command." Karen rolled her eyes heavenward and laughed slightly.

When Karen entered the kitchen a few minutes later, Ben and Laila were perched on top of phone books to reach the table, banging their spoons loudly against the surface. At the counter, Rosario cringed as she poured two bowls of cereal and brought a pitcher of milk over to the table. "I'm going to the store. You're out of wrinkle cream." Karen clenched her fist and stumbled as if she had been physically struck, glaring at the maid. "Have fun. And good luck," Rosario added, pointing at the kids, who were tossing Cheerios across the table at each other.

Without another word, Rosario left the room, leaving Karen to stare at the kids warily. Slowly, she rounded the table and sat down next to Laila, regarding her suspiciously, not knowing how to anticipate her next move. Jack, meanwhile, sat down next to Ben and happily poured some milk into the little boy's cereal. He passed the pitcher to Karen, who scowled. She was about to reluctantly fill Laila's bowl when the little girl flipped it over, dumping dry Cheerios out across the table.

Karen recoiled and stared at Laila in shock as Ben giggled around a mouth full of cereal. Laila glanced around, making sure her audience was at full attention, before leaning down and scooping a single Cheerio off the table with her tongue.

Karen's nose wrinkled in distaste. "Oh my god. She really is Grace's daughter." Eyes narrowed, Karen leaned closer to the child and peered at her. "Red's really messed you up, hasn't she? No manners at all." Laila turned to her and grinned, holding out a Cheerio in a little hand and feeding it to her before Karen had a chance to object. Caught completely off guard, Karen glanced around quickly, frowning slightly. "Uh. Thanks, kid."

Leaving Karen more than a little appalled, Laila turned her full attention back to her snack. She continued to lean down and pick up the Cheerios one by one with her tongue, encouraged of course by the incessant laughter of the boys on the opposite side of the table. Nearly choking on his own cereal and not wanting to be left out, Ben abruptly overturned his own bowl, sending cereal and milk sliding across the table.

"Ben!"

"Oh, shi –!"

"Karen!"

Karen sprang from her chair just before the milk waterfalled over the edge of the table, just missing her black designer pants. Karen pulled Laila from her chair as well and was met with a cry of protest.

Once on the floor, Laila fled the room as Karen began ranting about the ruined chair cushions, how children have no decorum, and even adding a complaint about wasting food for good measure. Ben lifted his face from the cereal-covered table and stared at Karen, milk dribbling down his chin. He cringed as Jack attempted to reason with Karen and she pushed him away from her, her voice hitting a particularly tinny pitch. Finally noticing Laila's absence, Ben scrambled off his chair as well and bolted from the room as fast as his little legs would take him.

Once Jack had calmed Karen down and they decided to leave the mess for Rosario since they'd probably do more damage if they tried to clean up, they set off to look for Ben and Laila. The manse was eerily quiet as they wandered the halls, peering into rooms, seeing and hearing nothing. In front of the playroom, Jack set his foot down only to hear a low crunch. He stopped in his tracks and looked down – a disintegrated Cheerio. Jack and Karen stuck their heads into the playroom and glanced around. No children, but they had definitely been there. Toys were out across the floor and a few more Cheerios littered the carpet.

Further down the hall, Ben and Laila peered around the corner to see Jack and Karen's rear ends sticking out of the playroom. They giggled to each other and watched as the adults extracted themselves from the room, looking around and arguing with each other. Finally they set off down the hall, Ben and Laila immediately bolting in the opposite direction.

For nearly an hour, Jack and Karen wandered the manse continually finding evidence of the kids, but still unable to track them down. Olivia and Mason's old bedroom doors were open, pill bottles littered the bathroom floor, Karen's makeup was disorganized on her vanity, one lipstick open and broken, and her favorite Chanel slingbacks sat in an unruly pile on the closet floor, looking mysteriously like they had been worn by tiny feet.

On their fifth lap down one of the hallways, Jack stopped short in front of a slightly ajar door that he hadn't noticed before. He gently pushed it further open, sending the light from the hallway out over the dark room, illuminating two little figures sleeping peacefully.

"Kar, look," he whispered, ushering her to the doorway.

"Jackie!" she erupted quietly upon seeing that the children had found her forbidden room. "Get them outta there!"

"But Karen –."

"No! I don't want anyone in there. That's a gross invasion of privacy and I will not stand for it. That door's supposed to be locked anyway. Where's that Rosario?" Karen turned to stalk off down the hall, but Jack grabbed her arm, hauling her back.

"You made this room for a reason." Jack planted her in the doorway, standing behind her with a firm grip on her arms. "This may not be exactly what you had in mind, but now you have _two_ reasons. It's being put to good use. Look how cute they are."

Karen had no choice but to smile wryly. Sound asleep, Laila was curled up on the thick green toile chair, hugging one of Olivia's old dolls to her chest. Ben had somehow climbed on top of the huge stuffed elephant that stood in one corner. He was draped across its back on his stomach, arms and legs hanging over both sides and Mason's G.I. Joe dangling from one hand.

"They're okay," Karen pouted, rolling her eyes, but nonetheless giving in.

Jack moved past her into the room and carefully pulled Ben off of the elephant's back. Without waking him up, Jack carried the boy over to the brass crib and laid him down at one end. He turned around to scoop up Laila, but saw that Karen had beat him to it. Jack watched as she moved in place ever-so-slightly, rubbing the little girl's back.

"Are you humming to her?" Jack suddenly asked, a little taken aback.

Karen's head snapped in his direction, her smile disappearing. "Of course not." She brought Laila quickly over to the crib and clumsily laid her down opposite Ben. She crossed her arms and stared down at them, brow furrowed.

"I think you liiiiiike them," Jack sang into her ear.

Karen wrinkled her nose. "I do not."

"Sure you do."

"Shut up."

Jack leaned his chin on top of her head and wrapped his arms around her shoulders from behind. "Karen has a hea-art. Karen has a hea-art," he sang, swaying her to the tune in the accompanying dance.

Karen twisted around and poked him in the chest. "You are so wrong."

"Am I?" Jack raised an eyebrow. "Or am I so incredibly right?"

"Karen?" Grace stuck her head into the foyer a few hours later, knocking on the half open door as she entered. "Hello?"

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" Karen shushed her in a semi-whisper as she came down the stairs. "Knock it off, you'll wake the munchkin."

Grace fully entered the manse and smiled. "Well, well, Ms. Walker. Look at you."

"What?" Karen quipped. She padded barefoot down the stairs, hair hanging askew. Karen had Laila in one arm, the girl's head on her shoulder, sound asleep. She carried Laila's jacket and bright pink backpack in her other hand. "What about me?" Karen glanced around quickly, genuinely confused.

Grace crossed her arms, fully taking in the visual with a smirk. "You almost look like you're enjoying this, Medea."

"Yeah, well, you look like you need to visit Optometrist," she replied with a soft smile as Grace gingerly took Laila from her.

Laila slowly woke up and looked groggily down at Grace. "Hey, sweetheart. Did you have fun today?"

The little girl nodded and placed a hand on each of her mother's shoulders, peering down at her critically. "Mommy, what are you wearing?"

Grace frowned at her daughter as Karen beamed proudly. "I knew I shouldn't have left you here. Okay, say buh-bye to your Aunt Karen," Grace added, pulling Laila's coat on and shouldering her backpack.

Laila leaned far out of her mother's arms, lips pursed for a kiss. Karen gaped at her, totally stunned. Grace saw her reaction and laughed. "Laila, sweetie, I wouldn't hold your breath. Aunt Karen doesn't really –."

"Later, Shortstack." Karen shot Grace an incensed look. She stopped the redhead mid-sentence when she complied, giving the toddler a quick peck. "Make sure you spill some juice in Leon's sock drawer for me, okay?"

"Okay!" Laila shouted, grinning and giving Karen a thumbs up. Grace looked completely baffled, staring at her friend until Karen gave her a little wave.

"See ya, Flatsy."

"Uh, yeah." She blinked. "Bye, Kar." Grace shook her head and started out into the hallway, leaving Karen leaning in the doorway. Over her mother's shoulder, Laila waved at her just before disappearing into the elevator.

As the elevator doors closed, those of the adjacent elevator slid open and Will stepped out into the hallway. Karen's eyes widened at the timing and she disappeared back into the manse and up the stairs. The doorbell rang a moment later and Will poked his head into the foyer. "Karen?"

"We're comin', Wilma. Keep your miniskirt on!" Karen and Ben appeared at the top of the stairs, mid-conversation. She held onto his hand as he took the stairs one-by-one. His other hand braced the wall and his Spiderman backpack hung low on his back, hitting him in the legs with every slow step he took.

"Now, Benny, say your girlfriend's mad at you. Whose fault is it?"

"Mine."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

"Buy her something."

"What?"

"Tiffany's."

"Karen," Will warned, frowning. "It's gonna take me years to undo what you've accomplished in one day."

She grinned at him. "No thanks are necessary, honey. Just wait 'til you hear what Jack taught him. Hey, Benedict Arnold." Karen tugged on Ben's hand. "Who's the most fabulous girl in the world?"

"Cher!" he shouted and Will couldn't help but crack a smile.

Karen raised her eyebrows and cocked her head slightly to one side. "Second only, of course, to who?"

Ben pondered this for a minute before an invisible light bulb went off over his head. He beamed. "Aunt Karen!"

Karen turned to Will, one hand over her heart, feigning surprise. "Why, Wilma, I'm gonna say it – your son's a genius." She returned her attention to the little boy who still grinned up at her. "Thank you, darlin'," Karen added while ruffling his hair. "I'll remember this one on your birthday." They finished descending the stairs and she let go of his hand. "Okay, squirt. Get outta here." Karen pat his butt and he scampered over to his father, who scooped him up.

Will looked his son over. "No bandages, no broken bones, we'll have to wait and see about the emotional scarring." Will smiled sincerely. "Thank you, Karen."

"No problem, honey. It was a pleasure, little man," she added, shaking Ben's hand.

"Bye, Aunt Karen," Will said with a wave, Ben soon getting the hint and following his lead.

After they disappeared into the elevator, Jack appeared beside Karen in the doorway and joined her in looking out into the hallway. He gently elbowed her in the side. "Whatcha thinking?"

"That you're always right," Karen answered without looking at him. Jack grinned. "And that I hate it."


	4. Weight of the World

**Twenty Questions, Part 4: Weight of the World**

**June, 2011**

The businessman stood in his new office and surveyed the space. He nodded in approval and took a precursory stroll around the room, fingering the curtains and peering out the window. He sat down at his empty desk and poked through the small pile of mail, picking up that morning's _New York Times_.

Stanley Walker turned to the New York Region section of the paper and nearly dropped the cup of coffee he was sipping in his lap. Splashed across the top of the page was the headline "Manhattan's Richest Un-couple," under which sat a picture of his second wife and her gay best friend. After Jack and Karen moved in together and began jointly spending Beverley Leslie's fortune, Manhattan society had become increasingly more interested in and amused by them and their situation. How could they not be? The ex-wife of a former-billionaire who lost his money was now dependant on her poor gay 'poodle' who had inherited billions of his own from a dwarf of a man who flew off his terrace. This was the juiciest gossip the high society women had encountered in years and Jack and Karen were going to milk it for all it was worth.

Stanley, of course, wasn't too fond of the publicity he and his borrowed fortune were getting, but he couldn't help but smile at the photo in the paper. Clearly set up by the two featured, the glamour shot was ridiculously overdone and overstaged. Jack and Karen posed regally in the manse, he in a tuxedo and she in a gorgeous off-the-shoulder evening gown. Jack even sported a top hat and white gloves, leaning debonairly on an elaborate walking stick. His other arm was snaked around Karen's waist as she leaned into him, pulling on one end of his lose bowtie with her teeth. Elbow-length opera gloves covered her arms and Karen was bejeweled in nearly every diamond she owned. The dramatic portrait was completed by random thousand dollar bills sticking out of pockets, sleeves, and cleavage.

Stan quickly scanned the article, familiar names jumping out at him. Will and Grace were interviewed, both seeming stunned that the _Times_ would do a story about the dysfunction they had gotten used to over a decade ago. Rosario didn't seem to think that anything about the whole situation was odd at all, while New York City mavens Helena Barnes and Candy Pruitt were nothing except completely appalled. Stan cringed when he got to the part of the article he was dreading. He saw his own name and began reading slower.

Just as he feared and suspected, it told the whole story. Everything. From Scott Woolley to going behind Karen and Will's backs to borrow an exorbitant amount of money to try futilely to save Walker Inc. one last time. Although Karen had managed to deter the board of directors from handing the company over to Scott while Stan was incapacitated, her nemesis had already driven the stock price down enough to do serious and lasting damage. Not being an accountant, Will had no idea how much Scott had hurt the company and Karen had never been told _where_ her money actually was. All she knew was that she had it – the fact that nearly all of it was tied up in corporate stock shares was beyond her cognitive scope. So when Scott Woolley began slowly and calculatedly driving down the share price, the Walker fortune gradually dwindled along with it.

When Stan heard about what Scott had accomplished, he began collecting funds to be used to attempt the revitalization of Walker Inc. upon his return to Manhattan. Being without cash in hiding, Stan was forced to borrow huge sums of money, eventually stashing eighty-five million dollars in a Swiss bank account. Walker Inc. stayed afloat for a few more years, until after the divorce, before the bank came knocking on Stan's door demanding repayment. Not having had enough time to reestablish the company to its former grandeur, the bank took everything it could to recoup its funds – the company, all shares of stock, Karen's divorce settlement, even the yacht. They even planned on putting the penthouse and all its contents up on the auction block before Jack jumped in and bought it for Karen. Now Stan was slowly saving money and lived a comfortable life. Not nearly as extravagant as before, but he had a very nice apartment and could easily put Olivia and Mason through college.

"Walker!" Stan's head snapped up from the newspaper as his office door flew open. He pulled his feet off his desk and sat up straight, staring at the young man in the doorway. "I need those status reports by four. Just because it's your first day doesn't mean you can slack off. I took a big risk hiring you. Don't make me regret it."

With that, Stan's new boss left the room, slamming the door again behind him. Stan scowled and folded up the newspaper, preparing to get to work. He separated the New York Region page from the rest of the paper and carefully folded around the article before gently sliding it under the clear plastic desk blotter. Jack and Karen grinned up at him from his empty desk, a constant reminder of how he had continuously screwed up, how embarrassed he should be, and how much he had lost.

One day he'd get there. One day he would be a respected businessman, his children would be proud to be his, and his beloved ex-wife would speak to him again. One day.

But first, Stanley Walker's boss needed those status reports.

* * *

Author's Note: So not the most thrilling chapter in the world, but I felt that the "borrowed" money was quite possibly the biggest question to come out of the finale and it needed some explanation. It took me and all of my unfortunate collaborators (much thanks to Lindsey and Monica for listening to me bitch) literally hours to come up with this reasoning, as KoMut metaphorically boxed me in storyline-wise here. Everything we came up with had an argument against it, "borrowed" being so broad an explanation. I hope it's somewhat clear and logical the way I decided it happened here.


	5. Badge of Courage

**Twenty Questions, Part 5: Badge of Courage**

**April, 2012**

Karen was jerked to a stop as Jack froze on the sidewalk behind her. He gripped her hand harder and she almost toppled off of her heels when she tried to continue into the building without his cooperation. Karen rolled her eyes as she watched all the color drain from his face. She felt Jack's hand turn clammy and he looked like he was about to be physically ill all over 52nd Street.

Karen thought the worst of it was over when she had finally convinced him to leave the manse and go to the party. She had been forced to wrestle him into his suit earlier that day, the first time it was done out of necessity and the first time neither one of them really enjoyed it. Jack stared up at the marquee over the Roseland Ballroom and swallowed hard.

"C'mon, Jackie," Karen tried the kind approach, gently tugging on his hand. "You don't have to let go the entire night. We'll get plastered and feel each other up in the coat room. And then we'll go home, pass out, and forget this ever happened, okay?"

Karen thought she saw a glimmer of excitement in his eyes, but it was gone when they finally focused on her expectant face. He shook his head vehemently. "I can't."

"Damn it, McFarland! What the hell are you so afraid of? These people are not any better than you. Just because they've been on _The Badge_ for six years and won a few Emmys and you quit after the first episode doesn't mean a damn thing!"

"I'm not going!"

Karen grabbed his wrist with both hands and began dragging him towards the building, the heels of his dress shoes digging into the sidewalk. He caught the glass door as they passed and latched onto the handle. Karen let out a growl of frustration, bracing her feet shoulder-width apart to keep her upright, the high slit in her tight scarlet dress shifting dangerously. Karen bent over and pulled on his arm as hard as she could, his new shoes slipping on the marble floor as he struggled. Jack finally hooked his right foot around the outside of the door and was able to tighten his grip on the handle.

"They just sold this piece of crap into syndication, so you're gonna be on TV for years to come whether you like it or not!" Karen tossed her head back, flinging loose pieces of hair out of her eyes as she glared at him, her elaborate up-do teetering precariously and one strap sliding down her shoulder. "So get in there, be grateful for your residual check, and grope me inappropriately under the table, damn it!" she ended with a shriek, her last few words echoing around the lobby.

Karen looked up and noticed a dozen other well-dressed guests staring at her with mild shock and interest. She flashed them a smile and immediately uprighted herself, quickly closing the distance between her and Jack, digging her nails into his hand. "What the hell is the matter with you?" Karen hissed fiercely through her smile.

Jack cringed. "I shouldn't be here."

"They invited you to this party –."

"To humiliate me. Ow!"

"Because you were important to the show. Don't ever interrupt me when I'm stroking your ego." With one final squeeze, she released his hand and leveled one perfectly manicured finger at his face before backing away.

Not in the mood to make an inappropriate comment and further anger Karen, Jack let go of the door and cradled his hand, gaping at the marks her nails left. He shook his hand in the air and marveled at her. "You need to never do that again."

"Then you need to grow up and go to this party." Karen turned her back to him and held out her arm, waiting for him to take it and escort her into the ballroom. When Jack didn't move, she turned and peered at him over her shoulder, eyebrows raised. "Jack."

He leaned against the wall and stared sadly down at the designs swirling through the marble tiles, idly rubbing his injured hand. Karen sighed and dropped her arm to her side. She lifted the hem of her dress off the floor and approached Jack, feeling him tense as she stood close to his side. "Poodle." Karen tried to get his attention, but he avoided her gaze every time. "Hey," she whispered, "I'm not used to being ignored when I look this fabulous." She lifted his chin to meet his eyes. "Honey, you got that part because you were good. It's their problem if they had issues with your voice. I mean, listen to me – I'd be dubbed in a second. But don't worry about it because, to me, you're perfect. And I'm the only one that matters." Jack rolled his eyes and looked away. "Now, I'm not just saying that because I wanna get in there and get hammered. Which I do. I'm saying that because it's true."

"But I quit, Karen," Jack said suddenly. "The first episode aired and they dubbed me, so I quit. This is what I was working towards my entire life and I just –. Without even thinking about it."

Karen took his arm and held it close to her. "You quit because they wanted you to sacrifice part of yourself. When I married Finny, he expected me to do the same thing. So I quit. Without even thinking about it."

"But I haven't had any parts since."

"And I haven't had any weddings since. So what?"

Jack was quiet for a long moment. "I can't go in there."

"Honey, just because they dubbed you doesn't mean they don't like you. Now, come on. We'll go dance circles around all those straighty cop actors who'll be jealous of your hot date. It'll be fun, Jackie, I promise."

Jack smiled slightly and toed the ground, but still refused to lift his head or say anything else. Karen suddenly pinched him in the side and he finally glanced up, seeing a bright smile splashed across her face.

"Who's my big strong man?" She pinched him again and he squirmed. "Who is it?"

Jack blushed and turned away, giving the opposite side of the lobby a lopsided grin. "It's me, isn't it?"

"Actually, I was gonna say Rosie, but you'll do too." Jack laughed and Karen stole a quick kiss on his cheek. She began backing further into the lobby, pulling him along with her. "You don't have to be embarrassed anymore, Jack. They'll be happy to see you."

Jack linked her arm through his. "Can we still make out in the coat room?"

"Sure, honey."

"My hand really hurts, Kar."

"Aw, I'm sorry." Karen took his arm and wrapped it around her waist, setting his injured hand on her rear end as they entered the ballroom. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks."


	6. Pomp and Circumstances

**Twenty Questions, Part 6: Pomp and Circumstances**

**May, 2013**

A warm breeze blew through the academic quad, rustling robes and tassels as the graduates listened with rapt attention to the valedictorian address her peers. The young woman stood with her head held high, delivering a passionate speech in a strong voice that echoed off of the old gothic buildings surrounding the grassy field. Red hair fluttered around her face as she looked out across the sea of mortarboards, some sporting "Columbia Law 2013" in gold sequins or glitter on the top.

Today was a huge deal. Her father had made sure her graduation status was plastered across every newspaper in Manhattan. He sat there today in the front row next to a handsome young man whom it could only be assumed was her fiancé. Her father had made sure _that_ was plastered across every newspaper in Manhattan as well.

In the very back row, a distinguished older gentleman sat forward in his seat, listening more attentively than anyone else in attendance. "You know," he said to the woman sitting next to him without turning to look at her, "she was in a few of my classes freshman and sophomore year. Never let any of her personal feelings interfere with whatever case she was studying. She could completely shut down. I've never seen anyone do that before."

On stage, the valedictorian glanced down at the front row, scanning it for someone. She got to the end of the row and settled on her mother, who took the opportunity to snap a picture and wave at her. Her father sat at the opposite end of the row between his daughter's fiancé and his lawyer and family friend, who was thrilled and proud to be back at his alma mater for this occasion. Her younger brother rooted inattentively through his suit jacket pockets, finally triumphantly coming up with a cookie that had been in there for god only knows how long. Not spotting who she was looking for, the young woman pursed her lips and glanced back down at her notes.

"Remarkable young woman," the man continued in a hushed voice. "Always so poised and confident. Said she learned everything from her stepmother. Idolized that woman. I'm surprised she isn't here today." He finally stopped and glanced at the woman beside him, who was staring straight ahead at the stage through her sunglasses. He wasn't even sure if she had heard him or not. "I'm sorry to ramble on like this. I'm Professor Jenkins." He held out his hand to her and waited, arm suspended in mid-air for a long moment.

The woman finally turned to him, gently taking his hand and looking momentarily panicked. "Anastasia Beaverhausen," she whispered. "Excuse me."

From the stage, Olivia grinned as she spotted a familiar leopard-scarved head leave the quad and disappear between two brick buildings.

She knew she'd come.


	7. Mama, Can You Hear Me?

**Twenty Questions, Part 7: Mama, Can You Hear Me?**

**May, 2014**

The older woman paced the lobby nervously, wringing her hands together. She paused occasionally in front of the door and peered into the parking lot, rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Behind the front desk, a young man watched the woman's anxiety until he couldn't tolerate it any longer.

"Mrs. Adler. Mrs. –. Bobbi!" The woman stopped fidgeting and turned a questioning face towards him. "If you get any mail –."

"When!" she corrected.

He rolled his eyes. "_When_ you get any mail, I'll let you know."

"Because Grace wouldn't forget me on Mother's Day," Bobbi flustered, hurrying over to the desk. "Right?"

He smiled. "Of course not."

"Oh, Joshua. You know you're my favorite, right? Our children may have dumped us in this cesspool of arthritis and bunions – no offense – but at least I have you to brighten my day." Bobbi patted his cheek before floating away.

When she entered the common room, Bobbi headed straight to the piano where a distinguished white-haired gentleman sat playing a classical tune. She sat down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. "Oh, Julius. Today feels like it needs a ballad."

"For god's sake, Bobbi. Why do you have to make everything so dramatic? Mother's Day isn't even until tomorrow."

Bobbi lifted her henna-rinsed head from Julius's shoulder and stared over the piano at Marilyn Truman, who was seated at one of the tables playing cards. "At least your son remembered you. The gays are a more thoughtful people."

"Oh, yes," Marilyn continued bitterly. "My William sent me the most delightful flower arrangement. Dead already, but it's the thought, I suppose."

Judith McFarland scowled as Marilyn's hand beat hers and she tossed her cards onto the table. "Well, my Jackie didn't send me anything this year either. He just doesn't give his mother the consideration she deserves since he moved in with that hussy."

"Hey, hey, _hey_!" A short brunette, not looking a day over sixty, appeared in the doorway. "Nobody talks about my Kiki like that."

At the sound of her voice, all of the men in the room looked up. "Lois!" they chorused, some raising their canes in an excited greeting.

She grinned and sauntered into the room. "Hello, boys. Might wanna keep those suckers on the floor. I don't want to be responsible for any more casualties this week." The men laughed appreciatively as Lois perched on the couch next to Daniel McFarland. "Hiya, Danny. How's it hangin'?"

"Not bad, I –."

"Daniel."

He glanced up and spotted Judith glaring at him over her cards. Daniel cleared his throat and looked down at his lap. "I'm not supposed to talk to you," he mumbled.

Lois raised her eyebrows and took a thoughtful sip of her drink. "Okay." She nodded. "I can appreciate that. Some women are just more insecure than others, isn't that right, Marty?" Lois turned to her other side and swatted Martin Adler gently on the arm.

He let out a hearty laugh that he quickly transitioned into a cough as he caught Bobbi scowling at him. "Well, it's true," he muttered and his wife shot off the piano bench.

"Let's go, Martin. It's bad enough that my daughters have abandoned me on Mother's Day, but I don't have to sit here and listen to you get propositioned by a conniving tramp."

"Propo_sitioned_?" Lois objected, nearly choking on her drink.

"Shut it, Bobbi," Marilyn admonished, standing up beside Lois. "You're just bitter because your girls ignore you and you have no talent!"

A stunned silence filled the room as Marilyn struck a nerve. Bobbi stared at her, mouth agape, until she gasped three times in quick succession, ending with a finger pointed accusingly at Marilyn. "You take that back!"

"Wish I could, but it's the truth. You flit around this building with your choreography and your showtunes and you drive everybody nuts! Swifty Lazar is not going to come into the Shady Creek Retirement Community and discover you, so give it up." Marilyn sat back down in a huff and picked up her cards again. "Come on, Judith. Your bet."

But Judith merely stared at her. She finally blinked once. "I'm afraid I can't do that." Marilyn looked up, puzzled, and she continued, "You stand there and attack this poor woman and defend that … that _strumpet_ –."

"Wow." Lois feigned impression. "Strumpet. When did it become 1875?"

" – while I'm sitting here with no Mother's Day present –."

"Aaand we're back to Judith," Martin commented.

Daniel shook his head. "I don't think we ever really left."

" – all because of her equally despicable daughter, who's taking advantage of my poor Jackie."

At this, Lois had finally had enough and got to her feet, slamming her drink down on the coffee table. "Oh, that's rich, Judy."

"Rich?" Judith laughed. "_Rich_? The irony of your word choice must escape you, Lois, or you'd be headlining at the Laugh Shack by now. Your daughter's just doing to Jack what you've been doing to men all your life – hanging around because he's rich. I guess the apple tart doesn't fall far from the tree, does it?"

"You were singing a markedly different tune when the shoe was on the other incredibly wealthy foot all those years. Am I right?" Lois glanced around the room and was met with a murmur of agreement. "You know how Jack got that money, don't you? You do realize what he had to do to get it, or are you that thick and self-absorbed? So just watch who you point fingers at." Lois planted her hands on her hips and watched the other women for a moment before sighing. "You know, you're right about me – I'm nothing special. But my Keeks supported your useless little fairy when he had nothing because she loved him. She married Stan because she loved him. The money isn't an issue – it was never an issue. None of our kids are perfect, but Karen's got that over me. I had it that good once and lost it early, so you just shut up, Judith."

"That doesn't excuse the fact that he forgot about Mother's Day because she –."

"You know, this jealously act is getting really old," Marilyn interjected and Judith gawked at her. "It is a little pathetic that you're jealous of your gay son's best friend just because you're not the only woman in his life. You were always thrilled that he's gay because that means you don't have to compete with another woman. Well, you do, so get over it and just be his mother."

From the piano, Bobbi began laughing uncontrollably. "Oh, look who's talking! You can't just be Will's mother. You're so involved in that poor man's life, it's sickening and rather unhealthy for the both of you."

Marilyn was quiet for a moment as she shuffled the deck of cards. "I'm not the one with an 'I Told You So' dance," she retorted calmly without looking up and the room tittered with amusement.

"You know, I think all of this fighting is just because you're anxious about tomorrow. You –."

"Quiet, Martin!" the four women spat without turning towards him and he immediately silenced.

"Which one d'you think'll go first?" Daniel whispered with a nod to the tense women, staring at each other through narrowed eyes.

Martin sighed. "I kinda hope its mine."

* * *

The next night, the seven sat in the dining room around a quiet circular table. The only sounds coming from their table were that of utensils on china as the women pushed their food moodily around their plates without eating. Martin, Daniel, and Julius watched them warily, but didn't let the tension in the air stop them from enjoying their meal.

Marilyn poked at a piece of chicken and sighed. "Will and Vince brought me more flowers this morning."

Lois looked up from where she was burying her peas in her mashed potatoes. "They're beautiful."

Silence fell over the table again until Bobbi suddenly spoke up, eyes staying focused on her plate. "I like that picture Ben drew for you."

Marilyn glanced up and regarded Bobbi strangely for a moment before smiling. "Thank you, Bobbi. That card Laila gave you was lovely too. Did she make that in school?"

"Yeah. Macaroni art. Only Laila uses Cheerios."

The group laughed quietly. "She's making it her own," Judith observed. "I like that."

"What did Jack bring you, Judy?" Lois asked tentatively.

Judith took a moment to swallow a piece of chicken. "A hundred dollars," she answered softly, slightly embarrassed that she enjoyed the monetary gift so much, especially after the previous day's argument.

"Sucker," Daniel replied with a quiet laugh. "I got one twenty-five last year for Father's Day."

"What time did you two get home last night?" Bobbi asked.

"About two," Judith replied.

"She's lying," Lois interjected. "It was four. She was drunk."

"I was not!"

"You know, I think it's adorable that Karen takes you out to the bar at midnight for the official start of Mother's Day. I wish William would do something thoughtful like that," Marilyn mused, taking a sip of her wine.

"Yeah, she's sweet like that. Jack and Judy had a hard time keeping up. Although our little J here was quite impressive with those tequila shots." On the opposite side of the table, Judith smiled into her plate, embarrassed.

"This is what I don't understand," Daniel began. "You four are exactly like your kids, so why can't you get along?"

"Most of them have been together for the better part of fifteen years," Martin added. "So why can't the four of you just be friends?"

Bobbi, Marilyn, Judith, and Lois glanced across the table at each other before finally smiling and raising their wine glasses in a small toast.

Why couldn't they?


	8. Birthday Presence

**Twenty Questions, Part 8: Birthday Presence**

**January, 2015**

It was almost dawn when the peaceful quiet was shattered by the front door of the penthouse flying open. Two shadows stumbled across the threshold, clutching each other and giggling incessantly.

"Did you see the look on the maitre'd's face when you came out of the bathroom at 21 wearing only a jacket and tie?" Karen cackled breathlessly and wandered over to the round table in the middle of the foyer. She tried a few times to put her purse on the table in the dark, nearly knocking an elaborate flower arrangement onto the floor. Karen caught the vase as it wobbled and shushed it loudly.

"I was following the dress code," Jack replied with a smile, regaining Karen's wandering attention. "You didn't have to go and steal that queen's boa at The Duplex and then flash him."

"Oh, honey, he wasn't interested in what I've got. Although I don't know why." Karen dropped her coat on the floor and made an elaborate show of adjusting her already low-cut dress, pulling the neckline down even more. "I've turned many a 'mo with these babies," she added into her cleavage.

"According to legend, at least."

Karen lifted her head and arched an eyebrow at him. "I haven't seen you going on any dates lately, Mary."

Jack stuck his tongue out at her and tossed his keys onto the table as he passed. "You're wasted."

Karen pouted and kicked off her heels as she chased him into the kitchen. She wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her head on his back as he stood staring into the open refrigerator. "Since when is that front page news?"

Jack tried to back out of the appliance, but couldn't move with her attached to him. "Here." He handed her a chilled bottle of vodka over his shoulder and she squealed, snatching it from him. Jack grabbed a bottle of water for himself and closed the door, darkening the room again. Moving to the table, he took off his suit jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. "Did you have fun last night?"

Karen nodded vigorously from where she had hoisted herself up on the counter, brunette tresses dancing on her shoulders. She kicked her feet out in front of her, heels hitting the cabinet doors loudly. "I did, poodle. Thank you." Karen held out her arms and wiggled her fingers, beckoning him to her.

"You're welcome." They shared a sweet kiss and a tight hug before Jack noticed something. "You have messages."

Karen squealed again and let go of him, turning her attention to the red flashing '3' on the answering machine beside her. She shimmied further back on the counter and planted the bottle of vodka between her legs as Will's voice floated out of the speaker.

"Hey, Cruella."

"Hiya, Wilma!" she yelled down at the device.

"We just wanted to wish you, on this, the three hundredth anniversary of your birth, a very happy birthday. I hope you take it easy on poor Jack tonight, and Ben has something he wants to say to you."

"HI, AUNT KAREN!" a voice suddenly bellowed and Jack flinched violently.

"Wow. Okay, son, that's loud enough. Daddy's gone deaf. She can hear you on the East Side, I promise."

"Aunt Karen! Guess what? I went to school today and I got my report card and I got all A's. And one C. But that was in gym and Daddy says it's okay because he can't play sports either. But then I went to science and learned about bugs. And Roger didn't beat me up at recess today! And then I had a spelling test. And then I came home and watched TV. And then I had macaroni and cheese for dinner. And tomorrow we're going to the zoo. I wanna see the monkeys because –."

Jack looked utterly confused as Karen smiled down at the answering machine with rapt attention. "Okay, Ben," Will interrupted. "I think she's zoned out."

Karen grabbed Jack's arm. "Didja hear that, honey – he only got one C!"

"Vince wants to say something too," Will continued only to be met with absolute silence. "Get over here."

"No. She doesn't like me."

"Yes, she does!" Will's voice lowered in volume as he wandered across the room. "Come on. Say something to the woman."

"Hi, Aunt Karen!" Ben returned to the phone. "Daddies are arguing. But I'm going to the zoo tomorrow. I wanna to see the monkeys. My friend Billy looks like a monkey. Daddy says it's because his mommy –." The machine beeped loudly as Ben ran out of time and got cut off.

"Aw, I wanted to hear about Billy's ugly mother," Karen pouted while pushing a button on the machine.

"Hey, Karen," a female voice floated into the room next. "It's the Markuses and we just wanted to say happy birthday. Leo sends his love. Well, not so much his love, but he said the nicest thing about you today. Well, he – he said _something _about you today." She paused. "Leo's thinking of you!" Grace finally decided with newfound enthusiasm. "Here's Laila."

"Hi, Aunt Kar-Kar," a quiet little voice greeted and Karen beamed. She linked her feet around Jack's knee, pulling him closer to the counter so she could plunge her hand into the cereal box he was holding. Karen locked her ankles around his leg, trapping him, and munched on a handful of Captain Crunch as Grace began whispering to her daughter.

"Go ahead, sweetie. Sing your song. I'll help you."

After a moment, a tiny voice began singing 'Happy Birthday' on the answering machine, Grace supplying back-up and occasionally overpowering her daughter off-key. Karen's eyes widened as she listened and she grabbed Jack's arm again, not noticing her cereal spill all over the floor.

"Anyway, I want to take you to lunch tomorrow," Grace began when she and Laila were finished their song. "So try to come into the office by one. We can go to Tavern, wherever you want. My treat. Happy birthday, Kar."

The machine beeped and Karen pushed the button again. "You're saving that one too?" Jack asked around a mouthful of cereal.

"Of course, honey. My girls sang to me."

They waited as the third message began with no words, just the sounds of the phone being held and nervous breathing. Finally, a man's voice broke through the crackling static. "Hi, Karen."

Karen turned ghostly pale and felt the sweating vodka bottle begin to slip from her hand. Jack caught it and set both it and the cereal aside, eyes moving frantically between Karen's blank face and the answering machine. He made a move to stop the message, but Karen caught his hand. "No. Let him talk." Karen turned and stared intently down at the machine as if doing so would help her hear the message better.

"It's been a long time," he continued after a lengthy silence. "I, uh, I haven't seen you since the, uh, you know … divorce." He paused, rebounding from the effort it took to physically say that last word. "I guess I thought maybe after that last afternoon we spent together you wouldn't go through with it, but clearly I was wrong." Stan paused again and Karen folded her hands neatly in her lap, watching the machine in a businesslike fashion and waiting for him to make his point.

"I just wanted to wish you a happy birthday," he continued in a rush and Jack saw Karen deflate considerably. "I know I've missed a few years, but I never forgot. I just wasn't ready. I'm okay now, though. Okay with why you felt like you had to leave me. I guess I had it coming." Stan stopped to clear his throat and Jack stole a glance at Karen, who continued to soften. "I own my own business again. It's doing well. Nothing like before, but that's okay. And the kids are good. They miss you. Like I do. Hopefully we can talk soon and I –." He stopped abruptly, deciding against whatever he was going to say next.

"Happy birthday, Karebear," Stan whispered before hanging up.

The line went dead and the answering machine beeped, a long and piercing sound cutting through the silent kitchen. Karen waited until the red '1' returned to a '0' before looking away, idly wondering what the machine did with messages that she chose to neither save nor delete. The ones she just left hanging in limbo.

Karen looked up at Jack, eyes asking questions that he didn't have the answers to. Jack stared back at her sympathetically, not knowing what to say, but subconsciously knowing that he didn't have to say anything at all. Finally, Karen untangled her legs from his and slid off the counter. She began wandering out of the kitchen, but stopped in the doorway, her back to Jack, and dropped her head. Karen braced herself against the doorframe and inhaled deeply.

"You want me to stay with you tonight?"

Karen froze. After a long moment, Jack saw her nod faintly before pushing off of the doorway and continuing into the hall.

Jack grabbed the bottle of vodka off the counter and caught up with her, leading Karen out of the room just as the sun began to glow an early morning shade of orange through the large kitchen window.


	9. Nice Day for a White Collar Wedding

**Twenty Questions, Part 9: Nice Day for a White Collar Wedding**

**March, 2016**

Karen clung to Jack's arm as they entered the church with Rosario. They stood off to the side in the entrance hall talking quietly as old friends and family members made no attempt to hide the fact that, yes, it was her they were pointing at and whispering about. Jack and Rosario's pep talk was cut short when the door on the opposite side of the hall flew open and a woman stormed out, seemingly on a mission. She was dressed impeccably and had obviously undergone numerous procedures to make her real age even god's best guess. Several girls in their mid-twenties in matching green dresses chased after her, trying to reel her in from whatever had set her off. Karen recognized the last girl out of the room – a little blonde who had frequented the manse almost twenty years earlier for countless play dates and sleepovers. The girl spotted Karen as well and waved, flashing her an excited smile before joining the others in their pursuit.

Karen untangled her arm from Jack's and excused herself, making her way across the hall and slipping through the door the women had exited from. Once inside and away from the chaos, Karen walked up behind the young woman seated at the vanity. "You remember the last time we were in this room?"

The girl looked up from the table and grinned as she spotted her in the mirror.

* * *

"Why are you marrying my daddy?"

Karen had forgotten that her soon-to-be stepdaughter was still in the otherwise empty room. The six year old girl was the extent of Karen's wedding party and was very good at blending into the background when she wanted to. Olivia was perched on the edge of a chair in the church's dressing room, kicking her feet in the air beneath her and clutching a small bouquet of white flowers.

"Is it because he buys you things?"

Karen froze in the middle of fastening one of her ironically exquisite Cartier earrings and stared at her stunned reflection in the mirror. "No," she answered and reached out for her other earring.

Silence hung in the room as Karen began applying her makeup. She worked slowly and methodically as she thought about Olivia's question. The girl appeared in the mirror behind Karen a moment later. "You look pretty."

Karen frowned. "Thanks, kid. So do you."

Olivia beamed and watched, enthralled, as Karen applied her mascara. The girl set her flowers neatly on the vanity and peered onto its surface, finally selecting Karen's hairbrush and turning away. Karen was about to snap at her to put it back when she felt the bristles rub against her scalp as the little girl gently brushed her hair.

The two worked in silence for a few minutes and Karen capped her lipstick before finally acknowledging Olivia. "Come here." Olivia stopped and rounded the stool. "C'mon." Karen snapped her fingers and held out her palm, in which the girl placed the brush before lowering her eyes to the carpet, expecting a reprimand. "Turn around." Karen drew circles in the air with the brush when Olivia didn't move. "Come on, come on. We can't be late."

Karen ushered Olivia in front of her and began quickly brushing her long red hair. She pinned up the sides so that long loose curls hung down her back and pulled a flower out of the bottom of her massive bouquet.

"It's because I love him," she said suddenly, eyes scrutinizing the flower, inspecting it for imperfections. Olivia furrowed her brow and met Karen's eyes in the mirror. "I'm marrying your father because I love him."

Olivia looked enlightened as Karen began pinning the flower in her hair. "That's good. Ow!"

"Sorry. One day you'll fall in love and get married too."

Olivia grimaced. "Boys are gross." Karen smiled slightly and finished securing the flower before selecting a second matching one from her bouquet. Olivia smiled as she admired herself in the mirror. "Will you do my hair then too?"

"If you want." Karen finished styling her hair the same way she had done Olivia's and stood, smoothing out her long dress. Karen picked up a bottle of her favorite Chanel perfume and sprayed some onto her wrist. "Spritz?" she offered, spraying some on Olivia as well. Karen rubbed her wrists together and dabbed a little perfume behind her ears, Olivia copying her moves exactly. They gathered up their flowers and Karen paused to look down at her future stepdaughter. "You ready to share your father, Curly?"

Olivia studied her for a moment before finally nodding. "Yeah."

"Good. 'Cause you didn't really have a choice." Karen lifted the hem of her dress off of the floor and started out of the room, Olivia right beside her.

* * *

"Here to do my hair? I'm marrying a gross boy and you promised." Olivia smirked at Karen in the mirror and handed her a brush over her shoulder.

Karen began to work on her hair as Olivia started on her makeup. "I saw your mother leave. How's that working out?" It was Karen's turn to smirk as Olivia groaned and rolled her eyes.

"Please, she's driving everyone insane. Especially dad. He was about ready to have her banned from the whole thing, but her name's on the invitation and she kicked in a few cents, so she's protected. Her idea of helping was to make all of the decisions for me and then have dad pay for them."

"Sounds like Kathy." Karen finished pinning Olivia's hair up, letting most of it flow down her back in long waves. "Flower," Karen requested, palm out. "Come on, come on." She snapped her fingers impatiently. "We can't be late." Olivia handed her a flower and Karen secured it to her hair. "Any Kathy decisions you disapprove of specifically?"

Olivia pursed her lips and thought this over as Karen set to work on her own hair. "Well, I'm not really a fan of those flower-bow thingys on the ends of the pews."

Karen nodded and finished pinning the matching flower in her hair. "Consider them gone. Your father'll probably knock them off trying to squeeze down the aisle anyway."

Olivia stood, pulling her dress out from under the vanity, and picked up a bottle of perfume. "Spritz?" she offered. Karen and Olivia both rubbed their wrists together and dabbed a bit behind each ear.

"I should go. See ya out there, Curly." Karen reached out to Olivia and fixed a wayward strand of hair that was sticking out before starting towards the door.

"Karen." She stopped and turned back, hand on the doorknob. "I'll share dad with you today."

Karen smiled ruefully. "Thanks, kid."

* * *

Karen clung to Jack's arm as they entered the reception hall with Rosario. After leaving the dressing room before the ceremony, Karen had marched down the center aisle to her seat in the second row, pointedly ripping the decorations off of the ends of the pews on her way. Had she not been in church, Kathy would have erupted a string of expletives that would surprise the most hardened criminal, truck driver, or sailor, but she settled instead on merely gawking at Karen as she stashed the flowers under her pew, turning and meeting Jack's stunned expression with a simple, "Liv doesn't want them."

Two hours later, Jack pried Karen's hand off of his arm and moved to the bar with Rosario, saying that Karen looked like she needed a drink – and fast. She nodded her agreement and let them go, watching the bustling reception from the doorway. A drink appeared in her sightline and she grabbed it gratefully, latching onto the arm at her side without turning to look at him.

"Thanks, honey."

"You're welcome."

Karen's eyes widened considerably and her head shot up. "Stanley!"

He smiled. "Come on. I'll show you to our table."

She gulped down half her drink in one swallow. "_Our_ table?" she choked out.

"Yeah." Stan looked down at her as if she were crazy. "The Parents Table. It's like the Kids Table only we pay for everything and don't get to color."

"Listen, Stanley, I don't know if that's a very –."

"Well, well, Karen." She turned and met Kathy's steely gaze, hurrying to down the rest of her drink. "Where's your date, dear?"

"Over there," Karen replied pleasantly, stealing a glance at the bar. "Hitting on that busboy. Where's yours?"

Kathy's expressionless smile widened. "Oh, he couldn't make it. He's on a business trip. In … Aruba." Kathy's smile teetered on crumbling at this last piece of information, but she slid it back into place at the last minute. Not before Karen noticed, however.

"Ah, I see." Karen finally smiled herself. "And what is it your husband does again?"

"He's a … plastic surgeon." Kathy winced slightly and glanced down at the table to pick up her drink. When she returned, her smile was plastered back in place.

"Oh, you must be so proud. He must be really good if his clients demand his services in Aruba. You know, during spring break and all." Karen smiled encouragingly at Kathy before glancing up at Stan, who was doing his best to hold in his laughter.

"Yes, he's … quite talented."

Karen smiled sincerely, not-so-discreetly looking Kathy over. "I can see that."

Kathy glared at her and returned to her appetizer as Stan pulled Karen's chair out for her. "God, I missed you," he whispered as she sat down, unable to hide his amusement at her knack for being able to tear Kathy apart in the politest of ways.

A while later, as everyone at the Parents Table finished their extremely uncomfortable dinner, the DJ announced that the first dance was about to commence. He beckoned the newlyweds to the floor to kick off the evening, asking everyone else to join in as they wished. Couples began taking the floor and Karen turned to Jack when another hand appeared before her.

Jack smiled. "Go ahead, Kar. I'll get the next one." He turned to his right and clapped his hands once. "Rosebud! Let's kick it!"

Rosario shrugged. "Okay. But I'm requesting the Macarena next." She pulled herself to her feet and let Jack lead her away as Karen frowned up at Stan, his hand still hanging in the air before her.

"May I? Please don't make me dance with Kathy," he pleaded when Karen continued to watch him warily. His first wife leaned heavily on the opposite side of the table, scowling into her leftover shrimp cocktail. She ripped one of the crustaceans out of its shell and tossed the tail bitterly into the center of the table.

Karen finally sighed and stood, swatting his hand away. "Oh, alright. I had to listen to you beg enough while we were married, I don't need it now." Karen leveled a finger at his face as they stopped in the middle of the dance floor. "But don't you get fresh with me."

"Scout's honor." Stan crossed his heart and ended with the Boy Scout hand signal. He took her hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist as the music started.

They danced in silence for a long time, Karen staring blankly at his tie as Stan glanced around the room awkwardly, often catching his children stealing looks at the duo as they ignored each other. "Liar," Karen finally said and Stan snapped to attention.

"What?"

"You were never a Boy Scout."

Stan's panic subsided and he laughed. "Sorry."

Another heavy silence fell over the pair as Karen prayed for the song to be over soon. She felt Stan's hand grow increasingly clammy and he shifted uncomfortably, making it hard for Karen to ignore the familiar feeling of his other hand on the small of her back. Karen furrowed her brow and tried to distract herself by observing everyone else on the dance floor. She saw Jack dancing spiritedly with Rosario, dipping and twirling the poor woman nonstop, Olivia grinning as Steven whispered some sickly newlywed nothings in her ear, and an irritated Mason as he was forced to dance with his mother, who talked incessantly at him. Mason caught Karen staring at him and shot her an encouraging smile.

"I forgot what a surprisingly good dancer you are."

"I'm full of surprises," Stan replied with a grin, trying to lighten the mood.

Karen snorted a laugh. "Tell me about it." She was silent for a long moment before sighing violently. "How long are we going to do this?"

Stan shrugged. "I could dance with you forever."

"Damn it, Stanley!" she hissed. "You know that's not what I mean. How long are we going to pretend that everything's fine?"

He shrugged again. "I am fine."

"Liar," Karen spat and pushed him off of her. "I hadn't seen you for almost ten years and then one night I come home to a message from you, bringing all that stuff up again and making me have to start all over. You're not allowed to be fine!"

"I see. This isn't about us, this is about you. Would you rather I ignored your birthday completely?"

"Yes!"

"Liar," he snapped and Karen clamped her mouth shut, glaring at him. The couples dancing nearest them on the floor began to shift away, pretending not to notice the heated conversation. Olivia pried herself away from Steven and whispered something to the DJ, who nodded and began looking through his music library.

"I waited that long to call you because I wanted to get back on my feet first. I needed time to become fine with what happened between us, to work on getting over you. I'm not finished yet."

Karen stared at him for a long moment. "Neither am I," she whispered as the song ended and silence covered the hall.

The DJ began the next song and Karen turned around to return to the table. "Karen, please."

She stopped with her back to Stanley and groaned. "Ugh. This song. Nothing's 'unforgettable'," Karen said bitterly and began moving again as Nat King Cole's voice floated out of the speakers.

"Some things are."

Karen froze. "But it's so cliché," she decided.

"It wasn't when you chose it for our wedding."

Karen slowly turned around and peered at Stan, who hadn't moved an inch. "You remember that?"

"Of course." He held out his hand. "Please, Kar. Dance with me for three minutes and then you can ignore me for the rest of the night. Or for the rest of your life if you want. Three minutes, Karen. It's our song."

Karen watched him for a long time as he silently pleaded with her, reaching out for her. Finally, she took Stan's hand and let him pull her close to him. This dance was far less awkward as they swayed to the music, Karen's head on his chest.

"You think you're fine enough to talk to me on a somewhat regular basis?"

Karen lifted her head and looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "You want to be my _friend_?"

"No," Stan answered with a small smile, "but I'll take what I can get."

Karen stared at him in shock for a moment before erupting in laughter. "You've got a lot'a balls, Walker."

Stan winked at her. "You should know."

This only caused Karen to cackle even harder and she fell against him, her forehead leaning on Stan's chest as she laughed into his shirt. "I do, honey." Karen patted his arm sympathetically. "And it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Stan laughed and pulled Karen into a hug. He leaned his chin on the top of her head and began absentmindedly humming along with the song. Neither one noticed when Steven approached tentatively, clearing his throat. "Mrs., uh –. Karen?"

Karen turned and looked at him without raising her head from Stan's chest. "Yeah, honey?"

"I don't want to interrupt or anything … dad," he added hesitantly and Stan smiled down at him. "But the DJ just said that they're going to do the, uh, parent dance. Olivia's already over there with my father."

Steven said nothing else, but merely held his hand out to her with a hopeful smile as realization dawned on Karen. "Oh. Oh, but, honey, I'm not her mother."

The young man's blue eyes grinned. "Not the way Liv tells it."

Karen looked stricken and wavered for a moment before taking Steven's hand. "Oh, Kathy's just going to hate this," she boasted with a laugh.

"Yeah, maybe I'll give her a dance later," Steven replied with flippant sincerity.

"Kar?" Stan called as she began to walk away. "So?"

Karen searched his questioning face for a poignant moment before shrugging widely and glancing around her with her patented oblivious smile, a confused palm facing the ceiling. "So what?" she chirped. "I'll call you next week." Karen smirked at him one last time before turning to Steven. "Say, you're a cutie, Stevie. Curly picked a good one. I approve."

Stan wandered off the dance floor and sat down next to Mason, who was effectively working his way through a massive piece of cake. Stan watched Steven blush as Karen proceeded to charm her new ex-step-son-in-law. "She's gonna call me," Stan proudly announced.

Mason turned and looked at him, mouth full. "What are you in high school?"

Stan picked up a fork and took some of Mason's cake. "Feels like it."


	10. Love's Labour's Lost and Found

**Twenty Questions, Part 10: Love's Labour's Lost and Found**

**July, 2017**

The young man sat forlornly at the bar in the Kitchen restaurant of the Mercer Hotel. It was dusk in SoHo and he was on his way home from yet another long and counterproductive day at work. He swirled the lime wedge around in the bottom of his Corona before finishing the drink off. He slid the bottle towards the inside edge of the bar.

"I'm gonna need something a little stronger than that," he told the bartender, who nodded and scooped up the empty bottle.

He took a pen out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and pulled a cocktail napkin towards him. He began doodling meaningless designs as he waited for his drink before deciding to take inventory of his life instead.

_Family? Insane.  
__Friends? Busy.  
__Girlfriend? Non-existent.  
__Money? Not on the streets yet.  
__Health? Out of Tylenol. Go to Duane Reade._

Before this checklist could transition into his shopping list, the bartender set a massive margarita down in front of the young man. He peered up from his napkin and gawked at the red frosted concoction. "Oh man," he breathed and reached into his pocket again. "How much is this sucker gonna set me back?"

"Maybe dinner and a movie." He looked confused for a moment and the bartender chuckled. "Courtesy of the woman at Table Five," he explained, pointing past the young man as he swiveled around in his seat. "The blonde."

Upon catching him glancing in her direction, she turned and abruptly attempted to pick up a nonexistent conversation with her brunette friend. They giggled and the friend peered towards the bar, getting consequently swatted for her efforts.

The young man thanked the bartender before picking up the margarita and wandering over to the woman's table. He walked up behind her as she pretended to not know he was there and cleared his throat. Both women glanced up, the brunette grinning knowingly and the blonde looking shocked to see him standing there. She smiled at him. "Hey, there."

He laughed nervously and felt his face turning red. "Hi," he squeaked out. "Um, this is really generous, but, really, I can't accept this."

"Why not, Elliot?"

"Because I –. I can pay for –. I should be buying _you_ the –." He stopped and gaped at her. "How do you know my name?"

The woman looked up at him, a mixture of amusement and disappointment playing on her features. "You don't remember me."

"What? No, of course! We went to the –. You were at the –." Elliot pointed at her as he racked his brain, finally sighing. "No, I really don't; I'm sorry."

"Okay, how about this." She cleared her throat and took on a younger voice. "'Lindsay threw up bacon on the foul line and then her mother yelled at her because they're kosher.'"

The brunette looked up and pouted, smacking her friend on the arm. "Hey! She cancelled my bat mitzvah after-party sleepover because of that. Actually, I think there were Bacon Bits in my salad tonight. Crap. I'll be back." Lindsay scooped up her purse and fled to the bathroom as Elliot stared at the blonde in shock.

"Nancy?"

She grinned up at him. "You look good," she began when he failed to say anything.

"Oh! Oh, you too. Yeah. Totally." Elliot laughed nervously and glanced around the room, focusing on everything except the woman before him.

"You wanna sit down?" she asked when he continued to ignore her.

His head snapped in her direction and he gave her an endearing lopsided grin. "Sure." Elliot abruptly turned on his heel and went back to the bar, leaving Nancy to look utterly confused. When he returned, he deposited two straws in the huge margarita. "You're gonna have to help me with this."

"Don't think you can get me drunk and take advantage of me," she joked, taking a sip.

Elliot nearly choked and gaped at her. "What? No! I … You're kidding. Nice. Good one." He laughed, pretending to have been in on the joke the entire time and Nancy burst out laughing.

Nancy reached across the table and shoved him playfully. "I forgot how much fun you were. So, how's your dad?"

Elliot rolled his eyes and let out something halfway between a groan and a laugh and Nancy giggled, knowing that a good story was on its way. Elliot took a sip of the drink and sat back in his chair, slowly relaxing. "Ridiculous. He inherited all this money and lives with Karen now."

Nancy's eyes widened considerably. "Wow. That must be a trip."

"Well, yeah, since they're usually on one." The old friends laughed and smiled at each other over the table. "But how are you?"

"Great. I teach third grade and, while the kids are usually on some sort of trip too, I love it. What about you? How are you?"

Elliot paused for a moment, not entirely sure how to answer. He stole a glance at the bar and saw the bartender pick up the depressing list Elliot had made earlier, crumple up the napkin, and toss it in the garbage. Elliot turned back and saw Nancy waiting attentively, a large genuine smile gracing her face. He grinned back at her. "Good. Really good."

* * *

Author's Note: This one's for Pam, who reminded me about Nancy's existence when everyone at KoMut seemed to have forgotten her.


	11. Sexual Healing

**Twenty Questions, Part 11: Sexual Healing**

Author's Note: Yes, like the Marvin Gaye song, which is surprisingly not hot. You might want to drop the kiddies off somewhere before reading this one. (I blame Keisha).

And I know, I know, I broke my own personal rule and used lyrics, but they really illustrate the whole point of this chapter, so give 'em a read. I'll be in mortified hiding until Part 12.

_Seduce themselves with lies, some don't realize  
They call it love but it's really only lusting  
So you see you and me  
We're getting close to the danger zone  
Show me how, tell me now  
Should I stay or should I go?  
'Cause I'm caught between yes and no  
'Cause when you kiss me  
I feel everything that I've been missing  
I try to slow down, but my heart wont listen  
And it's tearing me all up inside  
And when you touch me  
I feel a rush, but I'm afraid that it might crush me  
Should I put my trust in something I don't trust in?  
I try to run, but there's no place to hide  
'Cause, baby, kisses don't lie  
_'Kisses Don't Lie' – Rihanna

**

* * *

**

October, 2018

A half-full liquor bottle crashed to the hardwood floor in the semi-dark living room, followed closely by another, and then another. Bottles continued to rain down and shatter as they were pushed carelessly off of the mini-bar and something else slid onto its surface. Liquids mixed in sticky puddles on the floor as glass shards sprang across the room. The heavier bottles landed with a dull thud and rolled off in various directions. Karen would have bemoaned such a horrendous catastrophe and loss of life had she not been so otherwise, well, _distracted_ at the moment.

Half an hour earlier, Karen entered the penthouse with a man in tow. He hung up her coat as she deposited her purse on the foyer table and made a beeline for the mini-bar. "So, that was fun, honey. I'm glad we started doing monthly dinners to catch up and talk about the kiddies. You want a drink?"

Stan wandered into the living room behind her, hands shoved deep in his pockets. "Are you sure the one I had at the restaurant wasn't enough?" he asked with a small smile, knowing full well that one drink was never even close to enough in Karen's universe.

"Of course not! We're celebrating!" Karen turned around to face him with an empty tumbler held out in a toast. "Mason Walker, owner and general manager of 'Little Buddha's,' the finest chain of international cuisine on the west coast." She returned to the bar and began fixing her drink. "Now, come on. I'm buyin'. What do you want?"

"You."

Karen laughed throatily and turned around to smile at him, but promptly decided against it when she noticed that Stan wasn't laughing with her. Karen quickly quieted and turned back to the bar. "Yeah, maybe one was enough for you, honey."

Karen continued to fix her drink when she felt her hair being swept to one side and Stan's warm breath on the back of her neck. She tensed as Stan leaned down and kissed her behind the ear. "What was that for?"

"For being a good stepmother," he whispered, his breath making her neck tingle in an annoying, and yet not altogether unpleasant, way.

"_Ex_-step –."

"You still care. They appreciate that." Stan laid his hands gently on her arms and kissed the side of her neck again. "So do I."

Karen bit her lip and inhaled deeply, trying desperately to ignore him. "Stanley, you're drunk," she pleasantly informed him and reached again for the ingredients to her drink.

Karen's arm froze mid-air as Stan confidently whispered, "No, I'm not," into her ear. Of course, she knew he was telling the truth, but the statement seemed an appropriate diversion attempt at the time. Stan ran his hands up her arms and hooked his fingers under the collar of her black fitted suit jacket, sliding it gently off of her shoulders.

"Well, good for you," Karen replied with a forced laugh. "Finally learned how to hold your liquor." She picked up the bottle again and tried for the third time to fill her glass as Stan tossed her jacket off into a random corner of the room. He lightly traced her shoulder, taking the thin strap of the purple camisole she was wearing down with him and leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. Stan returned to her neck as his arms slipped around her waist and under her shirt, hands running across her stomach.

Karen finally gave up trying to fix her drink and set the bottle shakily back on the bar. She shivered as his fingers ran lightly across her skin and Karen laid her hands on top of his in a weak attempt to disentangle him from her shirt. Karen muttered some unintelligible protest and closed her eyes, head lolling unconsciously to one side, unintentionally giving Stan easier access to her neck.

Karen's eyes flew open and she jumped as the open bottle she had set down too close to the edge toppled off of the mini-bar and smashed on the floor. Copper liquid settled into the cracks in between the floorboards as Karen snapped back to reality and pushed Stan's hands out from underneath her shirt.

Karen quickly spun around to face him. She tried to step backwards, but found herself pressed against the bar. Karen stared up at him, opening and closing her mouth wordlessly. "No, you –," she finally choked out, "I –." Karen trailed off as she looked into his eyes – the green orbs she fell in love with thirty years ago. Karen saw him watching her intently, felt the familiar weight of his hands resting gently on her hips, felt his warmth as he took a step towards her, and had to grab onto the mini-bar tightly to keep herself from sinking to the floor as her knees threatened to give out from under her.

Stan smiled down at her and brushed some hair off of her baffled face before leaning in and kissing her neck again. Karen's eyes slid shut as he left a line of kisses across her collarbones and up the opposite side to her ear. Stan slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her close as Karen laid her hands on his arms, fully intending to push him away, but not seeming to find the strength.

"Stanley?"

Stan finished outlining her jaw and finally reached her lips. "What?" he whispered against her mouth and she shuddered.

"I –." Karen grew silent and froze as her mind went blank, chest rising and falling dramatically as she breathed heavily. "I forgot."

Stan slowly leaned in, capturing her lips in his own. The kiss was soft and tentative, their first in well over a decade, and Karen was pleasantly surprised to find that the contact still sent an unidentifiable tingle running through her body. The next was more confident and they soon fell into their old rhythm, as if they had only been apart since yesterday.

Karen stood up on her toes as she leaned into him, deepening the kiss. She ran her hands up his chest, pushing his suit jacket off of his shoulders. Stan shrugged it the rest of the way off and threw it blindly behind him as Karen linked her arms around his neck. Stan ran his hands down her body and lifted her easily from the floor. Karen wrapped her legs around his waist and kicked off her heels, which clamored loudly to the floor behind him.

Stan set Karen down on top of the mini-bar, bottles of liquor unceremoniously pushed aside and falling to the floor. A bucket of ice toppled over, its contents spilling over the side of the bar and bouncing across the room. They became increasingly more passionate as Karen struggled to impatiently to blindly undo the knot in his tie. When she was finally successful, Karen grabbed an end in each hand and pulled, sliding herself towards him across the bar. She locked her ankles behind his back and pressed herself hard against him. Karen pulled Stan's tie out from under his collar and flung it over her shoulder, where it landed draped over a dimly-lit wall sconce.

As the last martini glass tumbled off the bar and shattered, the room grew silent except for the low sounds of heavy ragged breathing, the occasional stifled moan, and years of bottled-up passion and emotion. Out of breath, they reluctantly parted and Karen began unbuttoning his dress shirt. She glanced up and saw him watching her lustily. Stan reached out to caress her cheek and in one swift motion they collided eagerly again, her hands clutching handfuls of his shirt and his tangled in her hair.

Stan's hands began to roam and Karen writhed against him as they kissed hungrily. His one hand snuck under her skirt and up the leg that was still wrapped around him. The other slipped up her back under her shirt towards her bra as Karen broke the kiss again. Stan returned once more to her neck, hands still at work, as Karen stared blankly over his shoulder, eyes beginning to cloud with thought.

"Stanley."

"Shh," he whispered softly in her ear before kissing her on the cheek. Karen was about to say something else when he reached a particularly sensitive spot behind her dangling earring and her breath caught in her throat. She felt Stan smile against her at her reaction as she threatened to give in again.

Karen grabbed his shoulders and forced her eyes to stay open. "Stan. Come on."

"Be patient, Kar." Stan sounded amused as his hand continued its journey up her thigh, the other working the hooks on her bra.

"I'm not kidding," Karen demanded in a slightly louder and stronger voice.

"Just … wait … a minute," he replied softly between kisses to her neck and throat. "It'll be worth it, I promise."

"No, you don't understand." Karen lifted his head from her chest as she felt him successfully unhook her bra. Stan leaned in and kissed her profoundly and it took Karen a few seconds to regain her senses before she pulled away. "No, honey, I don't think we should –." Karen abruptly halted and gasped, her eyes widening considerably. "Oh my god," she murmured. "Stop that!" Karen suddenly snapped and shoved his hand out from under her skirt. She bent her knees, planting her feet on his chest and pushing, her bright red pedicure contrasting sharply with his light blue shirt. "Back _up_!"

Karen finally untangled herself from Stan and slid off of the mini-bar, stumbling across the room. She braced herself on the back of an armchair and turned to face him. "I –. You –." Karen pointed at him before relocating her hands to her hips, blustering silently. "We –. You are – oh my god, this is so annoying." She yanked her loose strapless bra out from under her shirt and hurled it at him. "I can't believe you!"

Stan watched it sail past his head and land on the couch across the room. He slowly turned and peered at her fuming form moving restlessly in place. "Normally the tearing off and tossing away of underwear is a good sign, but I'm going to assume that this is not such an occasion."

Karen turned and began pacing the room, bare feet artfully dodging the broken glass and alcohol puddles that were slowly seeping into the exquisite Oriental rug. She kept pausing and turning around to say something, but every time couldn't form the words and returned to her pacing. "What's the matter, Karen?" Karen stopped again and pointed at him, but couldn't rightfully accuse Stan of anything, so she snapped her mouth shut and turned away. "I wasn't exactly working alone up there."

Karen finally sighed and collapsed on the edge of the couch, her head in her hands. "I know," she groaned. After a moment she looked up at him sincerely. "Do you remember the last time we were together?"

Stan looked slightly taken aback. "Of course I do." He knelt down in front of her and tucked some loose hair behind her ear. "It can be like that."

"No, it can't!" Karen insisted, head shooting up from where she was studying her hands, and Stan flinched.

He searched her face, utterly confused. "Why not?"

Karen rolled her eyes. "You are such a man," she scoffed and Stan grinned.

"Thank you."

Karen couldn't help but laugh as she shoved him lightly. "Stop it. Stanley, the last time was amazing."

He grinned again. "You're welcome."

"Can you stop being so inappropriately charming for one minute and just let me finish? Do _not_ respond to that!" she added hastily as he opened his mouth to retort. Stan settled instead on smiling up at her and taking her hands in his own. "That last afternoon –."

"Right before you kicked me out."

"Stanley!"

"Sorry. I'm sorry!" Stan quickly kissed her hand as a peace offering before returning it to her lap, leaning on her knees as he continued to kneel before her. "Continue."

Karen eyed him warily for a long moment before starting over. "That last afternoon." She paused and watched him, but he merely gestured for her to keep going. "When we made love." Karen stopped again and waited suspiciously.

"I'm listening!" Stan insisted.

"It was special," she continued after a moment, "Different from all the other times. Like when we first met. It wasn't lust, or an obligatory appointment I kept so you'd leave me alone for the rest of the week." Stan looked slightly offended at this last statement, but Karen didn't seem to notice. "It … it was _love_. We knew that it was the last time –."

"But it doesn't have to be."

"Bup bup bup." Karen placed a finger to his lips to silence him. "It does. Because this, tonight, _this_ was lust. I keep that last afternoon in here." Karen laid a hand over her heart. "It's too special to me. This would have tainted it and I can't let that happen. Do you understand?"

Stan didn't respond, his eyes lowered to the four hands entwined in Karen's lap. He was silent for a long time and Karen began to fidget nervously. "Stanley, say something. Please. A dirty joke, leer at the girls, a crude comment. Anything."

Karen was surprised to see Stan smiling widely when he finally looked up at her. "I didn't know you were so sentimental, Karebear."

Karen groaned and looked off into a random corner of the room. "Oh, honey, you have _no_ idea how much I don't want to be even remotely sentimental right now."

"I think I can imagine."

Karen looked down at him sadly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. If anything, I'm sorry. I started it."

She pondered this for a moment. "Hey, you did." Karen looked relieved before realizing something. "But I did lead you on. Oh my god, I'm a big fat whore." She groaned again and buried her face in the throw-pillow beside her.

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

She turned and peered at him, a smile threatening to break out across her face. Karen watched him grin at her and burst out laughing. "I guess it's both our faults," she decided, sitting up again.

Stan shrugged. "Or neither."

"I like that better." They were silent for a long time and Karen finally broke eye contact with him to look out across the chaotic room. "Gonna haveta restock the mini-bar," she whispered.

Stan watched her as she surveyed the damage, knowing that she wasn't actually thinking about her gallons of wasted alcohol. Stan tugged gently on her hands and Karen turned a questioning face towards him. He gestured towards her with a nod of his head and continued to tug on her hands. Karen watched him in confusion for a moment before realizing what he was doing. "C'mere, ya big whore." She laughed again and slid off of the couch into his waiting arms. Stan pulled her into his lap and into a tight hug, enveloping her tiny form and rubbing her back comfortingly. "Will I see you next month?"

"Of course, honey." Karen pulled back to look at him. "But don't think you're gonna get to third with me again."

"Damn," he exclaimed softly as they got to their feet. "That was all part of my master plan, you know."

"Oh, I'm well aware of all of your master plans," Karen smirked as she handed Stan his suit jacket and they wandered into the foyer. "Now go home and take a cold shower, cowboy." Karen pat him on the back as he opened the front door. "Go on."

Stan turned back in the doorway and winked at her. "Only if you join me."

Karen rolled her eyes and shoved him out into the hallway. "Goodnight, Stanley."

He grinned down at her and gave her a quick kiss on the forehead. "'Night, Kar."

Karen closed and locked the front door behind him. She leaned against it, head tilted up to the ceiling, and covered her face with her hands. She let out a growl of frustration and exhaustion and pushed off of the door, propelling herself back into the penthouse.

Karen wandered into the doorway of the living room and inspected the scene, hands raking through her disheveled hair. With a sigh, Karen hit the lights, darkening the room, and began trudging up the stairs to her bathroom. She didn't care what Rosario and Jack would say when they woke up in a few hours and went downstairs. Didn't care what they'd think when they found half of last night's outfit strewn about the living room, liquor bottles littering the floor, or Stan's forgotten tie still hanging off of the wall sconce over the mini-bar. Even though she probably should.

* * *

Author's Note (Yes, Another One): I had a tag scene I would have loved to use, but I thought it ended better like this. But basically, Jack and Rosario come downstairs the next morning and are overtaken by the stench of alcohol. Gross. So they go into the living room and are completely flabbergasted. They survey the damage, see the clothes, and Jack instinctively breathes an, "Oh, f---." out of shock at the chaos. He then grimaces as Rosario picks the bra up off of the couch and responds, "Literally." The End!


	12. The Two Noble Truths

**Twenty Questions, Part 12: The Two Noble Truths**

**September, 2019**

"Mason Walker!" The redhead stormed into the huge kitchen, the heavy swinging door hitting some poor unsuspecting employee who dared to attempt to enter behind her. "You are in deep shit, little brother!" she finished, brandishing a legal document at him. Olivia dropped her purse and a folder loudly onto the counter beside him and shoved her sunglasses up on top of her head. She planted a hand on her hip as she leaned against the counter, waiting. When Mason ignored her, Olivia finally sighed. "Listen, I really don't know –."

"Taste this," Mason suddenly requested, turning from the saucepan that was simmering on the stove. He held up a wooden spoon and she complied, face twisting in concentration. "I just cleaned out the fridge." Mason grinned as her face fell, eyes widening, and she forced a swallow.

"Ew. And yet … not so. That's pretty good."

"I know. It's because I'm awesome." Olivia rolled her eyes as he turned back to the stove. "So, why am I drowning in feces?"

Olivia grimaced, but chose to ignore her brother's satisfied smile as he expertly added ingredients to the sauce. "You haven't paid your rent, genius. Just because you're a good cook, doesn't –."

"_Chef_, Livvy. Please. Give me some credit."

"Just because you're a good _chef_, doesn't mean you know how to run a restaurant. Maybe if you hadn't dropped out of Wharton to go to culinary school, you'd –."

"Whoa! Whoa." Mason waved the spoon at her and Olivia stepped back as sauce flew into the air. "No, no. I'm not doing this with you. I still have to hear about that from Dad and Karen."

"You gave the man his thirteenth heart attack!"

Mason scowled at her and returned his attention to the stove. "I still say it was the ten grilled cheese sandwiches he'd eaten for lunch."

"Mason, this month's rent was due two weeks ago." Olivia dropped an open folder on top of the pot into his line of vision. "If Mr. Angelino doesn't get the money by Tuesday, he's shutting you down." She pointed out a specific clause in the document and Mason sighed, tossing the folder aside and adjusting the heat on the stove.

"He can't. We open in less than a month; the place is done."

"Uh, he owns Little Buddha's temple and you not paying rent is called breach of contract. He can do whatever he wants to you."

"Olivia, I appreciate your concern, but I'll be fine."

"You live on my couch! That's the exact opposite of fine. Mase, Dad can't afford to toss you a few million any more."

"I didn't ask him to."

"I know." Olivia crossed her arms. "They think you're wildly successful and have four of these joints all over California."

Mason's head snapped up. "What? How did you know that?"

"I spoke to Rosie the other day. She was quite proud. Gushing, even."

"Yeah, well." Mason grinned. "Knowing me does come packaged with bragging rights." He suddenly grabbed his sister's arm. "You didn't say anything, did you? Please tell me you didn't say anything. Don't crush the poor girl's dreams."

"Well," she started slowly and Mason began to look worried. "I made her promise not to tell Karen."

"But she's gonna tell Jack."

Olivia shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe."

"Damn it, Olivia! You might as well have told Karen. That man's such a pushover. One bubble bath and he's showing her where the Holy Grail is."

Olivia looked momentarily distracted. "Didn't _The Da Vinci Code_ say the Holy Grail was actually what's-her-face's womb?"

The siblings locked eyes before shuddering violently and turning away from each other. "But, really, Liv, now Karen's gonna go tell Dad at one of their weird dinners and push him right in to number fourteen."

"You don't know that."

"Of course she'll tell him. Because this just proves that they were right to freak when I bailed on business school. And you know how much they love that."

"They do like to be right," Olivia mused as Mason opened the refrigerator and retrieved two bottles of beer. He tossed one to Olivia, who caught it deftly and set it down on the counter. "But look at it this way, Mason. If –."

"How long have you been knocked up?"

Olivia froze and stared at him, her mouth hanging open. "What? I'm not."

"But you think you might be." Mason gestured to the bottle she had set down on the counter with his own as Olivia's hands unconsciously landed on her stomach. Mason approached and pried one of her hands away, peering at her shirt. "I'd say 'bout three, four weeks."

Olivia grabbed a handful of his hair and shoved him away from her. "Stop that! What is it written on my forehead?" She snatched the toaster off the counter and studied her reflection, looking for any visible signs of her suspicion.

Mason sighed. "I can feel it in my bones." Olivia shot him a look and he laughed. "Please, Livvy, I can tell when something's up with you. Besides, I live on your couch." Olivia looked slightly embarrassed as Mason added an, "Ew, by the way. Plus, I'm dating Carrie, remember?"

"So what?" Olivia returned her unopened beer to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of water instead. She stopped mid-sip and studied him. "You didn't –? She's not –?"

"Oh! Crap! No!" Mason looked truly horrified at the idea and nearly fell over as he recoiled. "Dude, seriously. She's a baby doctor. I know about these womanly things."

"She's not a gyno, doofus." Olivia smacked her little brother on the forehead as she crossed back to the counter. "She's a pediatrician. Enters the picture later."

"Walker!" Olivia and Mason spun around as Mr. Angelino stalked into the kitchen, clutching some paperwork in one hand. Mason's face fell as Olivia sprang into action.

"Sir." She stepped forward, hand extended, and the landlord eyed her warily. "Olivia Chandler, Mr. Walker's attorney and big sister." Mason rolled his eyes. "I just wanted to inform you that you will have the money by Tuesday and –."

"Save it, sweetheart." Angelino stepped past Olivia's still extended hand to address Mason. "F.Y.I., Walker, the money came in from your financial advisor in New York."

Olivia gaped at him. "Mason has a _financial advisor_?"

Mr. Angelino frowned. "That's what I said."

"Liv, you remember," Mason jumped in and smacked her arm playfully. "That guy with the – with the hair? Mr., uh –. And he has that secretary. With the voice who saunters around in the skirts." Mason made an elaborate show of demonstrating as he spoke, prompting Olivia to grin at him and arch an amused eyebrow. "You remember," Mason added evenly.

"Actually, I'm a little foggy. Could you do that again? Just the secretary part."

"I got a check and letter today," Mr. Angelino cut in, peering at the top of the stationary he held. "From seven-twenty Park Avenue. The office of some Delaney & McFarland." Mason choked on a sip of his beer as Olivia snorted a laugh and turned away, stifling her giggles in her water bottle. Mr. Angelino skimmed the letter as he continued, "It says here that they were experiencing computer problems and were unaware that the rent was overdue and that it is in no way your fault. I received a check for this month and half of next month's rent, but I was, naturally, still suspicious since you've never mentioned them before. So I called the phone number provided here."

"Oh, god," Mason muttered.

"Spoke to some woman named Anastasia. You were right about the voice."

Mason groaned into the refrigerator as he dropped his forehead against the door. Olivia's laughter faded and she stepped forward, now harboring some concern. "Uh, Mr. Angelino, there's probably something you should know about Anastasia."

"All I need to know is that she corroborated the entire story. Congratulations, Walker, you've just bought yourself another month to make me not regret renting to you." He turned pointedly and strode out of the room. A wide-eyed Olivia turned to Mason and was about to say something when the landlord reopened the door slightly and leaned halfway into the room. "This was in the envelope for you." Mr. Angelino tossed a smaller sealed envelope to Mason and left again.

Mason looked down and groaned as his worst fear was confirmed when he saw Karen's handwriting gracing the front of the envelope. "Well, thanks a lot, Olivia. I know exactly what this is gonna say," Mason fumed, holding it up in front of him. "Dear Buddha," he mocked, "What the hell is the matter with you? Blah blah blah. Do you expect us to come to the rescue every month? Because it ain't happenin', kid. Drunken rambling. We're so disappointed in you. The end."

"You're an idiot," Olivia spat and snatched the envelope from his hand. Tearing it open, she pulled out the letter and began reading aloud. "_Dear Buddha_." Mason crossed his arms confidently across his chest and Olivia gave him a look. "_What the hell is the matter with you?_" she continued, slowing down as she reached the end of the sentence, Mason looking slightly stunned that he was correct again. He uncrossed his arms and took a few small steps towards his equally surprised sister. After a moment, Olivia reluctantly began reading again. "_Do you expect us to come to the rescue every month? Because we will if you need us._"

Olivia glanced up and met her brother's gaze over the top of the paper. "That was unexpected," Mason whispered. After a moment they both peered back down at the letter.

"_You'll be a huge success, just be patient. We're so proud of you. Karen. P.S.: Congrats on that bun in the oven, Curly._ Oh my god! I haven't talked to her in two months!" Olivia exclaimed as Mason burst out laughing. She sighed violently and glanced at the last sentence. "_I can feel it in my bones_."

Mason began laughing harder as Olivia rolled her eyes and tossed the letter down on the counter. "Well, truth's out. Both of them." Mason picked up the letter and pinned it to the large bulletin board hanging beside the refrigerator.

Olivia scoffed as she collected her paperwork from the counter and stuffed it back in her bag. "Please, with Karen the truth's never _in_ to begin with."

* * *

Author's Note: F.Y.I., the title references the fundamental Buddhist teaching of The Four Noble Truths. You don't need to know what they're about, just that this is what I'm referring to. It's a subtle pun, but whatever. And fun fact: the stereotypical fat, Laughing Buddha is actually a Chinese representation of a medieval monk and is therefore not an actual Buddha image, so Karen using it as an insult is wrong. Calling Mason "Buddha" actually calls him "enlightened" or "blessed one." Go figure. Oh, the things I learn from Wikipedia...Also, points to whoever found the reference.


	13. Absolut Value

**Twenty Questions, Part 13: Absolut Value**

**November, 2020**

It was deathly quiet. She couldn't work under these conditions. The peaceful silence was too distracting. Grace exhaled loudly and tried once again to concentrate on her sketchbook, the stillness weighing heavily around her ears. Her pencil scratched noisily against the paper and she could hear each second booming by on the clock that hung in the swatch room behind her. The thirteen year old girl sitting across from her at Karen's desk turned a page in her textbook, the slight fluttering sound magnifying in the still room and Grace cringed.

Grace closed her eyes for a moment, hoping that when she opened them she'd have a brilliant idea for the Turner bathroom she was supposed to be designing.

No such luck. Grace glared down at the paper and threw the pencil across the large table. "It's too quiet!" she suddenly yelled, tossing her sketchbook aside. Laila jumped as the sketchbook smashed into a coffee mug, sending it to the floor where it cracked. Her head snapped up from the textbook, her pencil freezing mid-mark in her notebook.

Laila opened her mouth to say something when the door behind her crashed open and Karen breezed into the office, shedding her fur coat as she spoke. "Sorry I'm so late, honey. We had a little emergency at the manse. My driver had another bronchial attack. It was disgusting. I had to –." Karen spotted the redhead seated at her desk and cocked her head curiously to one side. "Hey." She kicked the leg of the chair and Laila turned around. "Fake Curly." Karen jerked her thumb across the room and Laila rolled her eyes, gathering up her homework. "Shift it." Laila vacated Karen's chair and she immediately plopped down, setting her purse at her feet and carefully arranging her workstation – _Vogue_, emery board, days-of-the-week pill organizer, the newest Bergdorf Goodman catalog, and other essentials. Karen flipped open the magazine and began filing her nails when she noticed that Laila was still standing beside her desk. Karen paused and peered up at her out of the corner of her eye. "What?"

"What do you know about fractions?"

"I know that I drank a fifth for breakfast this morning." Karen immediately began cackling at herself, soon out of breath and smacking her hand down on her desk, pills rattling in protest in their containers. An open notebook slapped down loudly in her line of vision and Karen immediately stopped, her eyes widening. She gaped down at the page, numbers scrawled in pencil staring back at her like some ancient foreign language.

"I mean math," Laila said simply. "Can you help me?"

Across the room, Grace began laughing as she retrieved her sketchbook from the floor and scooped up the broken coffee mug. She snorted. "Laila, sweetie, I wouldn't expect Aunt Karen to know anything about seventh grade math."

They stared back at her, Karen irked and Laila beginning to look crestfallen. "Well, you couldn't help me," her daughter explained and Grace flinched.

"I did go to college, honey."

"Yeah," Grace scoffed. "Gold Digging 101."

Karen glared furiously at Grace's back as she moved to the trash can before turning to Laila, perfect smile plastered across her face. She pointed widely at the textbook Laila cradled. "Okay, what do we got? Sine? Cosine? Polynomials? Hippopotamus? Hypotenuse? Lemme see." Karen took the book from Laila, momentarily caught off guard by its weight, and set it down in front of her.

Astonished, Grace glanced up from her sketchbook. "Surprisingly, most of those are actual mathematical terms."

"Just fractions," Laila explained.

"Okay, take a seat, kid." Karen waved her over and Laila sat down on the edge of Karen's chair, nudging her halfway off the seat so they could share. Karen frowned. "I meant your own, but whatever. Fractions," she muttered, studying the book and trying to remember anything even remotely related to the topic. "Oh! I got it!" Karen reached around Laila and opened her desk drawer, triumphantly pulling out various small bottles of airplane liquor. Grace glanced up as Laila watched Karen meticulously line up the bottles across the desk. When they were arranged to her liking, Karen finally selected an open bottle of vodka. "Um, so a fraction is when you have part of something. Now, how much is in here?"

Laila rolled her eyes. "Half."

Karen squinted as she studied the liquid inside. "Sure." She shrugged and picked up a second open bottle. "Now, if you add this to the first bottle, what do you have?"

Laila looked bored. "One whole."

Karen pursed her lips as she thought this over. "Huh. That's right, isn't it? Okay, too easy. How do I have two started anyway?" She shrugged and easily finished one of them, tossing the empty bottle into the trash can beside her desk.

"Aunt Karen, I know what a fraction is. We're past that." Laila flipped ahead in the textbook and pointed to a new page. "Dividing fractions by whole numbers." Karen's face fell. "You _do_ know how to do that, don't you?"

"What? Of course, honey. Who doesn't?" Laila nodded towards her mother and they both giggled. Grace peered up suspiciously and Karen grinned back at her. "What? We're just dividin' fractions, honey. Mind your own business. Geez." Karen looked slightly annoyed as she peered back down at the textbook. "Okay, dividing fractions." Karen picked up the pencil and set it to the notebook, stopping as she realized she had no idea what to write. She glanced up at Laila, who was watching her expectantly, and smiled weakly.

"By whole numbers," the girl reminded her.

"I remember. Oh!" Suddenly inspired, Karen picked up another small bottle of liquor and placed it on the book in front of Laila. "Now, if the three of us were going to share this Scotch, how much would we each get?"

"Karen," Grace warned evenly.

"Hypothetically! Gosh, Gracie, what do you have against math anyway?"

"We'd each get a third," Laila answered without hesitation.

Karen picked up the bottle and frowned again. "You're right; it's full. Okay, too easy." Karen tossed the bottle over her shoulder and heard it smash somewhere in the service elevator behind her.

"Karen!"

She glanced up at Grace and smiled obliviously. "What? I can get more." Karen picked up a different bottle as Grace eyed her warily before going back to her sketch. "Pretend this one's, I don't know, five-eighths full. How much would we each get then?"

Laila chewed on her lip as she thought this over. She picked up the pencil and wrote the equation down, staring at it from under a furrowed brow. "You can't. You can't put three into a fraction – it's smaller than one!"

Karen looked exasperated. "Well, honey! You have to make the three into a fraction first. Didn't you read your book? It's right there!" Karen tapped the textbook pointedly and sighed.

"You can do that?"

Karen groaned. "You have to –. Just put a –. Oh, hell, give me that." Karen snatched the pencil from the stunned girl and began scribbling in her notebook. "Look."

Grace watched in bewildered amusement as Karen and Laila both leaned over her homework, heads together and completely absorbed. Karen had her left arm around the girl's waist as they shared the edge of the small desk chair to prevent inadvertently pushing each other onto the floor. Laila watched intently as Karen continued to write, occasionally glancing up at the textbook. Karen pointed at another mini liquor bottle with the pencil, saying something that Grace couldn't hear. Laila laughed and apparently replied correctly, as Karen nodded and wrote something else down in the notebook.

"So, then you just flip this one over and multiply," Karen was saying as Grace shook her head and went back to the bathroom sketch.

Laila looked dubious. "Why didn't we just multiply in the first place?"

"How the hell should I know? I'm just doing what it says in the book!"

They glared at each other for a moment, but Laila watched as Karen finished the problem before finally looking enlightened. "I get it." Laila turned to her, looking utterly shocked. "I get it!"

Karen tossed the pencil down on the desk and raised her palms to the ceiling in success. "My work here is done. Finish the rest." Karen sat back in the chair as Laila leaned further forwards on the edge, starting the other problems. "So, Gracie, what're you and Leon doin' this weekend?" Karen leaned back and crossed her legs, idly drawing designs on the back of Laila's shirt with her finger as she worked next to her.

"_Leo_ and I," she corrected to deaf ears as Karen sighed dramatically, "are going to the Hamptons this weekend," Grace finished in her most polished high society accent as she sauntered to her desk to lay out some swatches. Karen's head wobbled mockingly and she stuck her tongue out. "Stop that. It's going to be very romantic. Just the two of us."

"So, kid." Karen poked Laila on the back and she peered over her shoulder. "You wanna stay in Livvy's room again or are you ready to move on up to the official guest suite?"

"Actually," Laila grinned, "Mom said I could stay home by myself."

"What?" Karen breathed, sitting up straight.

"She's old enough now," Grace chimed in, nose once again buried in her sketchbook. "It's only for one night. And we'll call her every hour just to check in." Laila rolled her eyes. "I think she can handle the responsibility. Besides, you don't want her staying with you forever."

"Oh. Well, I … guess not." Karen frowned and glanced around the room.

"Don't want to cramp your style," Grace added with a laugh before proudly holding up her completed Turner bathroom sketch. "Ta-da! I knew I'd finish once you got here to distract me."

Karen smiled weakly. "It's nice, honey."

Grace floated obliviously around the office gathering her things, but Laila studied Karen curiously over her shoulder until her mother caught her attention. "Come on, Laila. We should go. I still have to pack." Grace paused in the middle of the room, arms full, as Laila climbed off Karen's chair and filled her backpack. "Go home, Kar. Have a good weekend. We'll see you Monday."

"Bye, Aunt Karen." Laila shouldered her backpack and gave Karen a quick kiss on the cheek as she swung into the hallway.

"Bye, Aunt Karen," Grace echoed and kissed her friend on the cheek before following her daughter out of the office.

Karen winced. "Lord." After they were gone, Karen sighed, retrieving her purse from the floor and beginning to reorganize her desk. As she collected the airline liquor and stowed it safely back in its drawer, Karen was surprised at how affected she was by Laila's newfound responsibility. Over the years, she had been stunned to discover just how much she enjoyed having a whole new generation of kiddies staying with her at the manse occasionally. Sitting across from Jack at the dinner table with Laila in Olivia's old seat or Ben in Mason's, Karen was oddly reminded of the near-perfect family life she once had over two decades ago.

But now they were growing up too.


	14. Pucci Gucci

**Twenty Questions, Part 14: Pucci Gucci  
****f.k.a. Oodles of Poodles**

**January, 2021**

It was deathly quiet. He loved working under these conditions. The peaceful silence offered no distractions. Will turned the page in the legal folder that sat on the counter and continued reading as he absentmindedly dried the dishes. The fourteen year old boy at the table doing his homework dropped his calculator, making Will flinch violently. He frowned and picked up a coffee mug, distractedly rolling it around in the dishtowel he held as he tried to make sense of his latest case.

Just as the motive was beginning to become clear, the door crashed open and Jack flew into the apartment, arms raised in victory. "HUGE news!" he bellowed as Will's head snapped up and the mug dropped to the floor at his feet. "Benjamin," Jack greeted as he sauntered past the boy into the kitchen.

"Jacqueline," he replied without looking up from his textbook.

Jack paused and pointed back at Ben, a fake laugh growing quickly until he abruptly stopped and glared at him. "You're going prematurely gray," Jack shot back and turned again towards the kitchen. "Now, William. Wi–? Where'd you go?" Jack clapped his hands twice and Will reappeared from behind the counter, broken coffee mug cradled in his hands. "Ah, there you are."

"Jack! You scared the crap out of me. What do you want?" Will dumped the mug in the trash can as Jack retrieved a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

"Just a box of Lorna Doones and some ham. Rosario's sick so Karen tried to cook dinner. Whatever it was, I don't think it was dead yet." Jack shuddered and peered down at Ben's notebook. "What are we doing?"

"Math. Want to help?"

Jack laughed. "Oh, dear lord, no." He sat down next to Ben and turned to Will. "But I'm also here to allow you to bask in my glory. I am now accepting praise, tokens of appreciation, and ass kissing. That last one's not meant to be taken literally, thank you very much."

Will leaned heavily on the counter and eyed Jack warily. "And what exactly am I praising you for?" He suddenly looked enlightened and gasped. "Did you finally learn how to write your name in cursive?"

Jack rolled his eyes, but stunned Will when he failed to respond with an overly emotional outburst or a fake laugh. "I'm serious, Will. I figured out why Karen's been acting so weird for the last couple of months. She doesn't know I know, but she's upset because _some people_," he emphasized with a pointed look at Ben, "think they're too old to stay with us any more."

"Uncle Jack, I can stay home alone for two hours while they go to a movie."

Will finished the dishes and started for his bedroom. "Yeah, Jack. Kids grow up. There's nothing you can do about it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get ready for our weekend in the Berkshires."

"Fine!" Jack exclaimed, crossing his arms dramatically. "The three of you just go ahead and abandon Karen in her time of need. I was going to ask for your advice, but I see that I'll have to do without your support. So go ahead. Escape to the suburbs," Jack addressed Ben, who hadn't moved an inch, waving him away. "Go on."

"Actually, I'm not going. I have a paper due Monday."

"Oh." Jack paused, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Well, you're in luck. I know for a fact that your Aunt Karen has a whole stockpile of term papers she bought off of Olivia and Mason's classmates. Just in case. Everything from 'The Fall of the Roman Empire' to 'The Rise of the Legwarmer.'"

"That was _your_ term paper," Will reminded him as he returned to the living room with his suitcase.

"And _so_ not worth the D it got me."

"Ben is going to stay home, not have any parties or friends over," Will explained evenly and Ben rolled his eyes, "and concentrate on his homework."

Jack waited until Will was occupied once more by his packing before leaning towards Ben. "You can have a party at our house," he whispered.

"Jack!"

Jack flew back in his chair and glanced around innocently. "What? I didn't say anything. I certainly didn't just promise your son a party on Park Avenue." He once again leaned towards Ben and whispered, "Eight o'clock tomorrow. You want girls there?"

"Stop that! He will stay home and finish his homework. We want to read this thing on Sunday."

"You're some friend, Will." Jack stood and approached him seriously. "She has feelings, you know. You just don't pay attention to them. You never have. It's like Olivia and Mason are leaving her all over again. She just needs someone to need her."

Will watched the younger man for a few seconds, becoming vaguely aware of the sincerity in his earnest eyes, before scoffing. "You're overreacting. What is she bored now that you're finally paper-trained?"

Jack stared him squarely in the eye for a long moment, finally making Will shift uncomfortably and turn awkwardly back to his packing. "You'll figure it out one day when Ben goes to college," he heard Jack say as he stepped around him. In the hallway, Jack turned back for a moment. "P.S.: You're a genius, but don't let it go to your heard. It's already disproportionately large."

* * *

In the manse's spacious kitchen, Karen was staring uneasily at a pile of dirty dinner dishes. Head cocked slightly to one side, she studied them curiously, hands on her hips. Rosario had refused to eat any of the food Karen prepared for her after Jack ran from the penthouse muttering excuses and she couldn't begin to fathom why. Karen shrugged and picked up a fork, moving the leftovers around on the plate. She leaned down and took a cautious sniff before recoiling in horror.

Maybe that's why.

Karen gingerly picked up the plate and dumped it in the garbage, immediately pushing the can back under the sink and closing the cabinet door. She spun around as Jack entered the kitchen holding something behind his back and she brightened considerably. "Hi, Jackie! I made dessert." Karen held up a box of Little Debbie cakes.

"Later, Kar. I have something for you first." Karen brightened even more and Jack grinned. "Now, I noticed that my Bear's been sad lately, so…" He turned around and pushed the large box onto the kitchen table. "Happy birthday!"

Karen's face twisted in confusion. "But my birthday's not for two weeks."

"Oh. Then … Happy Friday!" Jack tried again and pushed the box towards her across the table. Karen eyed the present suspiciously as Jack beamed down at her, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet. "It doesn't matter! Open it! Open it!"

Jack's enthusiasm was contagious and Karen was soon grinning along with him. She eagerly pulled off the lid and flung it away, reaching inside the box. "You got me a – a purse? You went handbag shopping, you big fairy?" Karen pulled a massive designer bag from the box and looked it over, the weight of whatever was inside shifting clumsily. "It's a little big, but –."

"Noooo!" Jack whined, truly disappointed that she didn't understand whatever point he was trying to make, and pouted severely. "It's not a _purse_, Karen. Put it down; open it!" He resumed jumping in place as Karen set the bag down on the table and curiously unzipped it.

Karen froze as she stared into the bag. She glanced up at Jack, mouth hanging open, as he grinned from ear to ear. "Poodle, you got me a … a poodle?" she asked, gaping down at the brown puppy cowering in the corner of his designer dog carrier amidst various toys, packages of food, and other supplies. Karen reached in and gently reached for the dog, which protested and tried to back further into the corner. He landed on a squeaky chew toy and jumped, startled.

"Actually, he's a Yorkshire Terrier," Jack stated matter-of-factly, "but, look, he's named already and everything! Look!" He pointed at the puppy and continued bouncing.

Karen reached for the small dog's matching designer collar and the puppy whimpered, staring at her through large scared eyes. Karen found the tag and turned it over in her hand. "Gucci," she read. "You named the poor thing Gucci?"

Jack nodded vigorously, obviously proud of himself. "Yeah. Do you like him?" he asked eagerly, nervously fingering the zipper on his jacket.

"I do," she answered, still stunned, and Jack grinned. Karen stood up on her toes and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. "Thank you, honey. But why?" Jack reached out to pet the dog and it whimpered again, writhing away from him and burying its head in Karen's arm.

Jack shrugged, but smiled knowingly. "He looked like he needed you."


	15. Grandmadame X

**Twenty Questions, Part 15: Grandmadame X**

**February, 2022**

Jack paced the foyer, his dress shoes clicking rhythmically on the tile floor and reverberating off of the silent walls. Gucci watched him curiously as he rounded the table for what seemed like the twentieth time. He glanced furtively up the stairs as he passed, impatiently wringing his hands together. Jack paused at the foot of the stairs and leaned on the banister. He was about to say something when a loud "Poodle!" cut through the silence from upstairs. Gucci perked up and bounded to the foot of the stairs beside Jack, joining him in staring up at nothing.

"What?" Jack answered at the same time as Gucci barked his own response. Jack frowned down at the Yorkie territorially. "She was talking to me. And you're not a poodle," he snapped and Gucci barked again.

"I'm rethinking the jewelry. Should I wear the –?"

"No."

"What about the –?"

"No! Less is more with that dress."

Jack resumed his pacing as Karen descended the stairs in a long black gown that hugged her still curvaceous body. She paused on the landing and leaned on the railing, watching Jack wander the foyer below her, one jeweled dress strap having slid down her right shoulder. "Well, well, Mr. McFarland," Karen began and Jack turned around, grinning when he saw her. "Aren't we looking dapper this evening."

Jack puffed out his chest and debonairly hooked his fingers around the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. "We are, aren't we?"

Karen finished descending the stairs and drew circles in the air with her finger. "Spin."

Jack complied and turned around slowly for her inspection. He paused with his back to her. "Nice?"

"Very," Karen replied with a pinch to his rear end.

Jack shot her an approving look and finished his pivot before holding his hand out to Karen. "Your turn."

She took his hand lightly and turned in a graceful circle, Gucci lunging after the dress's slight train as it slid across the floor in her wake. "Well? What do you think?" Karen asked nervously, twisting the rings on her fingers. "There's only so much Plastic Surgeon can do. I'm not getting any younger, Jackie."

Jack took her hands and held her arms out so he could look her over once more. "Perfection, Madame. And might I say that the girls are looking particularly intriguing in that dress." Karen glanced down at the heart-shaped bodice of her dress and back up at Jack with a raised eyebrow. "Everyone's going to hate us," Jack bragged, linking his arms around Karen's waist and pulling her close to him.

"They always do, honey," she replied, brushing some fuzz off of his shoulder as Gucci began barking incessantly and running in crazed circles around their feet.

Jack cringed. "Kar, you have to do something about him. He hates me."

"He doesn't hate you. Gucci!" She clapped her hands twice to get his attention, but the tiny dog ignored her. "Stop that!"

"He doesn't? Then what does this look like?" Jack picked up his foot, revealing Gucci latched on to his pant leg. The dog growled around a mouthful of fabric as he was lifted from the floor.

"He's only jealous. Gucci! Leave Jackie alone!" Karen grabbed the dog and he immediately released Jack, wriggling happily in Karen's arms.

"He has issues," Jack said bitterly as he checked his pants for any damage. He felt a spot of dog slobber and winced. Jack glanced around helplessly for a moment before finally wiping his hand on the wallpaper.

"Aw, he just loves me. Isn't that right?" Karen pouted down at Gucci, who yapped in agreement and licked her face. She grimaced and turned away. "Ugh. I just applied. And no doggie dander on the satin, honey, okay?" Karen set him back on the ground and brushed off her dress.

"_I_ love you, but I didn't mark my territory in Stan's closet." Jack glared at Gucci, who looked up at him innocently. "Twice."

"That's because I finally got you paper-trained." Karen tweaked Jack's nose and he couldn't help but crack a smile. "Now, come on. We can't be late for dinner."

Jack groaned as he picked up his keys and Karen's purse. "Why do we have to go?"

"Honey, I explained this to you. It's the biggest social event of the season." Karen fixed her misbehaving dress strap and secured her wrap around her shoulders. "What would everyone think if we didn't show up?" she asked, taking her clutch purse from Jack.

"Um, that it's lame and they shouldn't go either?"

"Come on, honey, you have to go. I'll let you French kiss me in the elevator." Karen poked him in the chest and smiled enthusiastically at him.

Jack rolled his eyes. "That doesn't work on me any more."

"Fine." Karen pursed her lips. "I'll throw in a discreet dance floor fondle too."

He sighed dramatically as Karen took his arm and led him to the door. "I guess. But I won't like it."

"Of course you won't, you big liar." Karen opened the front door and came face to face with a redhead, hand poised to knock on the door. They paused, staring at each other for a few moments, until the redhead waved with the hand that still hung suspended in the air.

She smiled. "Hi."

Karen's mouth opened and closed wordlessly a few times in shock until she finally smiled back. "Curly! What are you doing here?"

"We're moving back to the east coast," Olivia replied as the two women hugged.

Karen pulled back and held her by the shoulders, studying her. "Really? Because I can tell if you're lying."

"Really. Steve got transferred."

"Then who'll take care of your brother?"

Olivia laughed. "He'll be fine. He hasn't lived with me for two years. Hi, Jack." Olivia gave him a kiss on the cheek before she noticed Gucci running around her feet. "Who's this?"

"That's my baby, Gucci," Karen explained as Olivia bent down to scratch the dog behind the ears. "Jackie got him for me." Karen slipped one arm around Jack's waist and gave him half a hug when Gucci began barking furiously.

"He hates me," Jack explained as he let go of Karen and backed away. The tiny dog followed him, growling, before sitting down in between Jack and Karen. He glared at Jack, who sat down on the bottom step, defeated and eyeing the Yorkie with disdain.

"Wow. Looks like Gucci's got a little bit of an Oedipus complex going on," Olivia observed. Jack stuck his tongue out at the dog and Gucci stood up menacingly, startling him. "But you were on your way out, so I won't keep you."

"Oh, no, honey! It's okay; it's only the Black and White Ball. We can be late." Jack looked up hopefully. "Come in! Come in!" Karen began ushering Olivia into the penthouse and the girl grabbed her hands to stop her.

"I have someone I want you guys to meet." Olivia leaned around the doorframe, peering back out into the hallway. "Come on in, ma'am." Olivia stuck her hand around the corner and returned with a little girl clinging to her. Olivia ushered the three-year-old into the foyer and she stared fearfully up at the two adults gaping at her.

Karen's purse fell from her limp hand as she gazed down at the little girl. The little girl who Karen had heard all about, but never met. The little girl who Karen hadn't been expecting to see in the flesh. The little girl whose picture Karen dutifully carried around in her wallet to whip out at dinner parties when the other women's bragging had gotten too nauseating. "Maddie," she breathed, only loud enough for Jack to think he may have heard her say something, but not to discern what.

Overwhelmed, the girl took a step backwards and collided with her mother's legs. Olivia knelt down behind her, brushing the girl's long light brown hair out of her face. "Madison Chandler, this is Karen and Jack. Do you remember me telling you about them?"

Madison nodded.

"Karen is Mommy's stepmother. Do you remember me explaining that to you?"

Madison nodded again.

"Do you remember what that means?"

Madison stared up at Karen and shook her head. Olivia shrugged. "Two out of three ain't bad."

Karen dropped to her knees and sat back on her heels as she and Madison continued watching each other. Karen was mesmerized as Madison stared at her through Stan's bright green eyes. Jack crouched down next to Karen and grinned at the little girl. "Liv, she's gorgeous."

Gucci trotted out in front of them and Madison finally tore her gaze from Karen. Her eyes lit up. "Puppy!" Madison reached out to pet him and Gucci licked her hand, causing her to snatch it back in surprise and giggle like a madwoman.

"Madison." Olivia recaptured her daughter's attention and laid her hands on her arms. "Mommy grew up here. With Karen and Uncle Mason and Grandpa. And Rosie. You have to meet Rosie."

Madison turned and studied Jack. "Are you my Grandpa too?"

Jack's eyes grew wide and Olivia laughed. "No, honey, Jack is Karen's best friend. He lives here with her, but they're not married. Even though they act like it sometimes," she added as a sidebar and Jack shrugged. Karen vaguely heard what Olivia was saying as she watched Madison stare at her mother dubiously. "Karen was married to Grandpa when I was little. She wasn't _really_ our mother, but Uncle Mason and I thought of her like she was. Do you understand?"

Madison turned to Karen and Jack, thinking furiously. She finally glanced back at her mother. "No."

Olivia's face fell. "I can convince a courtroom full of intelligent adults that a murderer is innocent, but I can't explain my family to my own kid."

"Let me try," Karen suddenly spoke up. "C'mere, Maddie." Karen held out her hand and the little girl took a few tentative steps forward. "Um, see, stepparents are just as good as regular ones. It just means that there's more love to go around. And more presents," she added as she noticed that Madison was distracted by the shiny straps on her dress. The little girl took a few more steps forward and ran her finger over the intricate metal and the inlaid jewels.

"Madison," Olivia called, "would you like to come stay with Karen and Jack sometimes?"

The little girl looked up at Karen, who smiled down at her, and nodded. "Okay." Karen beamed as Madison's attention was caught by the even shinier glittering hair clip that Karen had nestled amid her elaborate up-do. She reached up and gently touched the diamond crescent moon.

"I'll buy you one one day," Karen promised and Olivia shot her a look. Karen frowned. "What? What's the point if I can't spoil her? You turned out okay."

Olivia smiled reluctantly. "I guess. Madison, we should go. It's late. We can come back tomorrow and see Rosie. Say goodbye, honey."

Madison nodded and tore her attention from Karen's diamonds. She wrapped her little arms around Karen and whispered, "Bye." After a stunned moment, Karen hugged the girl back, encircling her tiny body and pulling her tightly to her chest. Madison let go and moved to Jack, giving him a goodbye hug as well. She then returned to her mother, who scooped her up as Jack helped Karen to her feet.

"We'll stop by tomorrow. Go to your party." Olivia turned to Madison, who was studying the group in the foyer from under a furrowed brow. She bounced her daughter once on her hip to get her attention. "What's wrong?"

Madison slowly pointed to everyone individually, taking inventory and apparently trying to figure out her family in her head. "Maddie. Mommy. Puppy. Jack." Madison paused when she got to Karen, pointing at her as her face twisted in confusion.

"You can call me whatever you want, kid."

Madison's uncertainty cleared and she dropped her arm. "Okay, Grandma."

Olivia smirked as all the color drained from Karen's face, immediately clearing it of any expression. She watched silently as Olivia and Madison disappeared into the elevator, blindly reaching out behind her for Jack, grabbing his hand in one of her own clammy ones.

"Jackie," Karen finally whispered as she gripped his jacket with her free hand, still watching the empty hallway. "My baby has a baby."

"She does."

"And it called me 'Grandma.'"

Jack smiled. "It did."

Karen finally turned and looked up at him, a conflicted look gracing her face. "I _am_ getting old."

Jack laughed and took her hands, holding her arms out so he could look her over again. "But still perfection, Madame."


	16. Making Millions Maid Easy

**Twenty Questions, Part 16: Making Millions Maid Easy**

**May, 2023**

Rosario wheeled her cart of cleaning supplies down the upstairs hallway, glancing alertly around her in search of another human being. She quietly opened one of the doors along the long hallway and poked her head into the room. Rosario peered around before silently pulling her cart into the empty room and closing the door. She sighed contentedly and turned on the light, setting the playroom aglow in warmth. In addition to Olivia and Mason's old toys and artwork, new contributions had been added over the years by Ben, Laila, and most recently Madison, giving the room an eerie timeline effect.

Rosario flung her decoy feather duster across the room and plopped down on the couch. She tossed aside a rag on her cart, revealing a bucket with a mop sticking out of it filled with ice. She reached in and pulled out a cold beer and popped the top, concealing her portable refrigerator again with the rag. Rosario took a long sip from the can and leaned back into the soft cushions, smiling happily as she picked up the remote and turned on the television. She turned to Telemundo for her afternoon telenovela before reaching again into her cart.

Rosario opened a clean vacuum cleaner bag and pulled out her concealed Subway sandwich. She unwrapped it and selected a tube of toothpaste, squirting the mustard that was hidden inside onto her lunch. She finished her preparations with some seasoning, added by a few shakes of the cleanser can it was housed in. Rosario grabbed for a paper towel to use as a napkin when she saw a small white envelope that was wedged between the Windex and lemon Pledge flutter to the floor.

It was addressed to her in Karen's flowery handwriting and she tore it open, intrigued. Fully expecting a terse admonition or idle threat, Rosario was floored when all she pulled out was two small pieces of paper. Rosario's beer fell to the floor, the fetid liquid absorbing into the carpet, as she stared in shock at the rectangular slip that accompanied a short note.

* * *

Rosario stood in the doorway of Karen's massive closet, watching as her employer acutely studied her enormous shoe collection. Chewing thoughtfully on her pen, Karen's eyes poured over the floor-to-ceiling shelves of designer footwear. She cradled a legal pad in one arm and had a complicated chart taped to one of the shelves as she studied her shoes' positions. Karen squinted behind her glasses and cocked her head to one side, trying to get a new perspective. She hesitantly picked up a pair of black Ferragamos in one hand, eyes moving from the label to another spot on the wall and back again, before she deliberately planted them on a different shelf and snatched up some brown Marc Jacobs pumps to go in the other pair's place. Karen scrutinized the change and took the pen from between her teeth to make note of the movement.

"Miss Karen." Rosario gently held the slip of paper that was in her envelope, absentmindedly turning it over in her hands.

"Should I arrange by designer or by season?" Karen began quickly. "Because I have year-round Manolos, but these Pradas are strictly winter. And of course the Chanel slingback is forever." Karen laughed, but didn't turn around to face her maid, pen pointing wildly at different pairs of shoes as she rambled. "I'm not positive about these red Guccis, though. I think –."

"Lady!"

Karen abruptly froze, hand hanging silently suspended in the air, pen poised at a pair of gold Dior heeled sandals. She knew exactly why Rosario was there. Karen dropped her arm and hugged the legal pad to her chest, eyes remaining focused straight ahead of her on the hideous Pucci boots she still wasn't quite sure why she had bought. They were there. And now here they were, adequately distracting her from the conversation at hand just as they had distracted her from Grace's incessant whining that day at Bergdorf's when she bought them.

"Twenty years," Karen began. "To the day. Stanley couldn't keep another one of his promises, so I kept it for him. Your ten million dollar inheritance. Go ahead. Get out." Karen took a deep breath and let it out quietly. "You finally got your way. You're free."

"Miss Karen, I –."

"Jack and I'll be fine," she added in a louder, stronger voice.

"Lady, you couldn't make ice cubes without me!"

Karen didn't respond, but merely dropped her head. After a moment, she pulled the chart off the shelf and made some inconsequential notes. Karen's pen slowed to stop when she heard Rosario sigh behind her.

"I'm free," she whispered before turning and leaving the room.

Karen clutched her paperwork close to her, wrapping her arms around her body. She exhaled loudly as she closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against one of the shelves.

* * *

Jack sat cross-legged on Rosario's bed as he watched her cross back and forth in front of him, silently gathering up her possessions. An open suitcase sat in front of him and he idly played with the zipper as clothes were tossed into the bag. After a few moments of heavy silence, Rosario finally stopped and turned to Jack, leaning on the dresser.

"Where does she expect me to go?"

Jack shrugged. "Home?" he suggested, finally looking up at her.

"Chica, I've been with Miss Karen for thirty-eight years." Rosario sat down on the edge of the bed next to Jack. "That's three marriages, four divorces, two stepchildren, one ex-step-granddaughter, one and a half years visiting prison, two deaths, more than one false alarm pregnancy, one back from the dead husband, two best friends, and you." Rosario laid a hand on Jack's shoulder. "Where do you think my home is?"

Jack and Rosario stared at each other for a long moment. "She doesn't want you to go," Jack finally offered. "She just thinks she owes you, thinks that you want to leave. She's just making good on Stan's will since he can't. You don't _have_ to go anywhere!"

Rosario pat him on the knee. "Maybe it's time. You were a good husband, Cha Cha."

Jack gave her a small smile. "So were you, Rosie," he replied as he pulled her into a hug.

* * *

Karen wandered through the foyer, arms folded over her chest and eyes watching the floor. She glanced up and spotted Rosario on the landing clad in her Members Only jacket and sunglasses, purse slung over one arm and suitcase in hand. They watched each other for a few moments before Karen tore her eyes away.

"Well," she began as Rosario continued descending the stairs. "I wasn't sure you'd listen to me since you usually take such pleasure in blatantly disobeying me. But I guess you're anxious to get out of here."

"Stuff it, lady," Rosario retorted as she reached the foyer and turned around to face Karen. The two women stood up straight and eyed the other for a long moment. Karen crossed her arms confidently as they stared each other down.

It was finally Karen who spoke: "Don't forget to help out the mule when you buy those forty acres. You look like you could pull a plow."

"I mixed up all the pills in your medicine cabinet," Rosario countered. "Some combinations are fatal. Are you feeling lucky?"

Karen relocated her hands to her hips and studied Rosario for a second. An instant later, both women launched into a ferocious tirade against each other, each taking a few menacing steps forward as they continuously yelled louder to drown the other out.

"– you big tortoise!" Karen spat as both women ended their rants as quickly as they had begun. They watched each other through narrow eyes before suddenly launching into each others arms.

"Oh, Mami, I'm gonna miss you!"

"Me too, Rosie." Karen gripped handfuls of her jacket as they hugged. "But, go on, honey," Karen added as she pulled back and held Rosario by the shoulders. "You've got a whole new exciting life ahead of you."

Rosario slowly nodded before backing towards the door. "I'm really going," she announced somewhat uncertainly.

Karen nodded. "Good luck, honey."

Rosario reached the door and grabbed the knob. "Really, I'm gonna open the door."

Karen smiled. "Okay."

Rosario opened the door and stared out into the hall for a second before stepping only slightly over the threshold. "I'm in the hallway."

"Bye." Karen gave her a little wave.

Rosario stepped fully into the hall. "The door's closed behind me," the now invisible woman added.

"Don't forget to write!" Karen called after her. She waited for a second, fully expecting Rosario to make another announcement about her miniscule progress towards a new life. When she heard nothing, Karen furrowed her brow and took a shaky step towards the door. "Rosie?" Karen glanced around uncertainly and bit her lip. "I know you're still there." Again hearing nothing, Karen wrung her hands together nervously.

She had actually left.

"Rosie, wait! Come back!" Karen panicked and flung the door open, revealing a smug Rosario standing in the hallway grinning at her.

"I knew you'd crack. I always said you were soft like a noodle."

Karen stared at her in shock, her mouth opening and closing wordlessly. "You were workin' me this whole time?" Karen finally blustered, unable to wrap her mind around being played by her maid. Rosario merely smiled and opened her suitcase, revealing that it was completely empty. Karen's eyes flew from the suitcase to Rosario's satisfied face and back again. After another stunned moment, Karen smiled, a magnificent grin spreading across her features. "Ro-Ro, don't ever scare me like that again!" she gushed, pulling her into another hug.

"I'm keeping the money, lady," Rosario warned evenly over Karen's shoulder.

"Stan wanted you to have it. And so do I," Karen answered, much to the older woman's surprise. Karen pulled back and smiled at her friend. "Now, go on upstairs. Gucci crapped in Jack's closet again," Karen added quickly, the normal ice in her voice returning. "Get going!" Karen pointed up the stairs and smacked her on the rear end.

Rosario shook her head and began trudging towards the stairs. "Lady, I'm gonna spend this money on a crossbow," she threatened.

"Yeah, well don't forget to –! You better –! I don't –!" Karen stopped, her face twisting in confusion as she was unable to come up with an appropriate quip in response to Rosario's intimidation. Karen snapped her silent mouth shut and leaned on the banister, perturbed. She scowled and looked up the stairs after Rosario. When she turned back, Karen beamed, shaking her head. She rolled her eyes and cheerfully headed towards the kitchen.


	17. Opposing Counsel

**Twenty Questions, Part 17: Opposing Counsel**

Author's Note: I recommend being pretty familiar with the Will and Grace scenes of "A Buncha White Chicks Sittin' Around Talkin'." It's funnier that way – you'll see why.

* * *

**September, 2024**

Jack and Karen sat side-by-side on a plush red couch looking off in opposite directions. Behind them, the New York City skyline was visible through the large window. Karen folded her hands neatly in her lap, eyes grazing over the dark wooden paneling of the office, shelves stuffed with books and artifacts accumulated from around the world. Jack, meanwhile, was transfixed on the couch between them where Gucci sat glaring up at him. He shifted in his seat and Gucci immediately stood, causing Jack to freeze, inching further towards the sofa's armrest.

Karen finally turned forward, frowning. "I guess you're one of those therapists that likes us to start," she observed curtly.

"I hate that," Jack muttered under his breath and Karen eyed him curiously. He suddenly seemed to realize that he had spoken out loud and turned a panicked face forward, eyes wide and arms out in apology. "I mean, I don't hate you, just your methods. I don't know you well enough to hate you. Not that I would if I did, but I guess I could. If you –."

"Jack!" His head whipped to the right where he saw Karen silently warning him to stop talking. He snapped his mouth shut and turned back around.

"Sorry," Jack murmured. "Let me just get you up to speed." He pointed at himself. "Gay." Jack turned on Karen. "Straight." He pointed back at himself. "Sober." He switched again to Karen, who had a small proud smile forming on her lips. "Drunk." Karen gave the therapist a small salute as Jack pointed once again to himself. "Fifty five."

Jack turned for the last time to Karen, who intercepted him with a loud and warning "JACK!" and he froze. Karen quickly turned back to the therapist. "Listen, Doc, we've been best friends for twenty-six years and lately things have gotten a little strange between us. I tried to bring it up and now he's avoiding me and we've been having stupid fights."

"I haven't been avoiding you," Jack pouted, looking clearly confused.

"You have, too!" Karen turned to Jack and smacked the couch cushion for emphasis. "I come in the room and you disappear into thin air!"

Jack eyed her evenly for a moment. "Do you have to go to the homophobic place?" Jack crossed his arms and turned away, hurt. He sniffled once as Karen's face twisted in confusion.

"Huh? What? Homos?" Karen glanced around her quickly before settling her bewildered gaze back on Jack.

"Disappearing into thin air? Magic? _Fairies_?" Jack gestured between the therapist and himself. "We get it."

Karen blinked a few times before facing forward once again. "You see, this would be one of the stupid fights. Jack, can we just tell the man why we're here?"

"Fine." Jack turned and looked the therapist square in the eye. "Her dog hates me," he explained simply and Karen groaned at his avoidance of the real issue.

"He does not!"

"Watch this," Jack instructed the doctor. He took Karen's hand in his own and laced his fingers through hers, causing Gucci to immediately stand. He raised his arm and Gucci began barking, jumping persistently in the air trying to reach their hands. "This little rat's got a huge Oedipus complex."

"You don't even know what that is!" Karen shot back, wrenching her hand free.

"I know it's not normal."

"Jack!"

"Karen!"

_Bark!_

"Gucci!" The tiny dog froze and turned to Karen, who glared at him. "Don't you dare pee on Jackie!" The dog indignantly lowered his leg and shot Jack a look before trotting over to Karen, who gathered him into her lap.

"Listen, Cujo, I brought you into this world and I can take you out!" Jack threatened. Gucci growled at him and turned his back on Jack to lie down in Karen's lap.

"Why don't you try being nice to him?" Karen asked sincerely as she absentmindedly scratched the little dog behind the ears and he began to doze off. "He was a present from you. He's special to me."

"I shouldn't have to try," Jack pouted. "I did him a favor. I brought him into a penthouse with a Louis Vuitton dog bed, little cashmere sweaters from The Couture Canine, and a mother with a big heart and even bigger breasts." Karen smiled, looking truly touched. "What more does he want? I bought him for you because you needed something to take care of and he needed to be taken care of." Jack sighed and hesitantly reached out to pet Gucci. The dog turned and watched him lazily, but to Jack's surprise didn't otherwise respond to his touch. "I didn't realize I'd be replacing myself."

Karen's smile slowly slid away. "Oh, honey," she breathed. "Is that what this is about? No one could replace you. Especially not a dog." Karen cupped his face in her hand, gently rubbing her thumb over his cheek. "Poodle, I have a feeling I'll be taking care of you for the rest of your life." She slid across the couch towards him, dumping Gucci out of her lap. The dog watched resentfully as Karen kissed Jack on the cheek and hugged him.

Karen suddenly whirled around toward the therapist again. "Doc, I'm scared. This kinda thing is exactly why we're here!" She pointed widely at Jack and the air around him, indicating their preceding exchange. "Every day is one more stop on the highway to co-dependency." Karen gripped Jack's hand tightly and pleaded with the therapist with terrified eyes. "The signs are everywhere," she whispered, leaving the counselor not quite sure what she was referring to.

"Karen, it's not that bad," Jack reasoned, rubbing her back and addressing the therapist rationally. "We've always been close. I mean, the inappropriate fondle is the foundation of our entire relationship." This got a small giggle out of Karen and Jack playfully poked her in the side.

She nodded. "It's true. But lately things have gotten awkward between us. Don Juan over here hasn't been on a serious date in years. And the last guy I almost bagged was my two ton ex-husband six years ago. This isn't normal. Especially for us."

Jack nodded. "It's true. We're easy."

"We don't go out anymore," Karen continued, completely perplexed by her own actions. "We just stay in and watch TV."

"Lifetime," Jack specified and Karen immediately smacked him.

"Don't tell this stranger all the sordid details!" Karen lowered her voice again and continued confiding in the therapist, "I tell him what to wear; we started all these stupid traditions; and we can even –."

"Finish each other's sentences," Jack blurted out. Karen pointed at him and he gasped.

"See! This is what I'm talkin' about, Doc. This is a sickness. And worst of all …." Karen paused and took a moment to compose herself. "The fondle has fallen by the wayside. It's like we're an old married couple. It's like we're –." Karen closed her eyes, unable to physically say the words.

Beside her, Jack gasped three times in rapid succession, realization finally dawning on him. "Oh my god. Oh my _god_! We're –."

"Will and Grace," they both finished in unison before turning towards each other. "Stop that! You stop!" Jack and Karen pointed at each other and whirled back towards the therapist. "They do this!" they continued simultaneously. Karen clamped both hands over her mouth, eyes wide and afraid of saying anything else, as Jack sat in traumatized silence.

Karen sat forward on the edge of the couch and spoke softly through her hands. "On Friday we almost had a … a … I can't say it, Jackie."

"Game night," he finished in an awed whisper. "This is our worst nightmare."

"With," Karen took a deep steadying breath, "Blob and Yellen," she finished before tightening her hands over her mouth and letting out a strangled sob.

"Kar, its Rob and El –."

"Don't say it, poodle!" Karen reached out blindly behind her and gripped a handful of Jack's sweater. "It just makes it more real."

"After all these years of trying to not become them, we have anyway."

"This is it, Jackie. This is the end of us. There's no reason to go on any more." Karen sighed heavily and sat back on the couch in defeat.

"I'm scared, Karen," Jack finally whispered.

"You should be."

They sat in silence for a long moment, hand-in-hand and trying to come to terms with this catastrophic realization. On the other end of the couch, Gucci stopped rolling around on the cushion and peered up at them curiously. Ultimately, Jack looked up first.

"You know," he began thoughtfully, "it might not be that bad to be Will and Grace."

Karen turned and studied him, brow furrowed. "But, honey, they were codependent, had no lives of their own; they were emotional messes. And they dressed poorly."

"But they were happy." Karen was quiet, squinting at him in confusion, so he continued, "We've already lasted longer than they have."

Karen scoffed quietly. "Oh, honey, they were only together so long because no one else would have them."

"But they loved each other. What difference does it make what their reasons were for staying together so long. Isn't the most important thing the love part? As far as I'm concerned, if my best friend and the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with turn out to be the same woman, would that be so bad?" Karen laughed despite herself before sighing. "What?"

"We have a million reasons to not be okay with this. You know, the clothes, the hair, the board games. But I just keep imagining the next twenty years, after Madison leaves me too, of shopping sprees, bubble baths, harassing Rosario. And I'd really like you to be there."

Karen finally glanced up at Jack, who was grinning at her. "Me, too."

"Are we doing this? I mean, are we okay with, you know … being them?"

"I guess we are."

They smiled at each other for a moment before Jack reached over and grabbed a handful of her blouse and Karen shrieked. "Honey," she gasped, "is the fondle back?"

"Oh, it is." Jack winked mischievously at Karen and she squealed, clapping her hands in triumph before jumping into his lap. Gucci stood up on the sofa and watched them in puzzlement, head cocked slightly to one side.

Karen finally broke the hug and wrinkled her nose critically, fingering the collar of Jack's shirt. "Honey, we talked about this shirt."

"I'm not the Grace!" Jack protested, clearly insulted. "And you dressed me this morning!"

"Clearly a lapse in judgment from all the worrying. You are so the Grace, Jackie."

"I don't want to be the Grace!" he pouted as Karen distractedly picked tiny pieces of lint off of his sweater

"Too late," Karen decided simply. Jack started to protest again, but she cut him off with a quick peck on the lips.

Jack sulked in silence for a few moments as Karen settled deeper into his lap, one arm linked around his shoulders, idly kicking her feet in the air in front of her. "Well, we have two minutes left," Jack announced, replacing his arm around Karen's waist after checking his watch. "Is there anything we haven't covered?"

Karen shrugged. "I don't know. After something that huge, it's kind of hard to –." She paused and suddenly turned towards the long-ignored therapist, pointing an accusing finger at Jack. "He never cleans up and it really bugs the staff."

Jack's jaw dropped in betrayal. "Everything in your medicine cabinet has to face forward."

"How else are you gonna know what it is?" Karen shot back. She and Jack both whipped around, turning questioning gazes on the silent therapist, waiting for him to choose sides.

"SAY SOMETHING!"


End file.
